#id love to be like you guys.... id love to not have regrets and shame but i just cant

[jessiesjaded]

It is very interesting talking to other people and hearing them lament that even though a relationship or friendship or situation ended badly they still are happy it happened and they wouldn't take it back no matter what because that is just so fundamentally not me. I wish I could think like that, I wish the left over sentiment was enough for me to be at peace with it but it's just not. Once something has blown up I just always want to take it back, if someone handed me a magic button to erase it all and go back to before I would do it in a heartbeat.

[hetaherr]

playing video games with them | anemo boys <3

: kazuha, xiao, venti, wanderer

:mostly crack, a little suggestive but no warnings

well anyway this is another reupload!! added kuni’s part also got lazy to proof read its just a headcanon anyway!!! i play wayy to much video games and id love to share my hobbies with these sweet babies <3

kazuha

i think this baby is a really chill gamer, he enjoys the cozy aspect of video games. thats why i think games like minecraft, stardew valley, animal crossing and the sims!! cozy video game dates are a norm for you guys when its too hot outside or too rainy.

imagine playing stardew valley with him, curled up under the covers with your MATCHING SWITCH CONSOLES. you guys working through the first few years of the game as little farm people doing little farm things. he’d even find some helpful guides online so you guys can maximise your finances in the game. honestly i can see how he gets a little petty at the fact that you MARRIED some npc in the game and he had to watch the whole cutscene while you joked around that he hadn’t given you enough attention and this was all his fault. now kazuha hates that particular npc, and he’s definitely pouting the whole night. give him lots of smooches, tell him that no video game code can replace your pookie wookie baby boy <3

but there, of course are other ways you can make up for it, like asking him to marry you- in animal crossing duh!! he’d take this whole thing very seriously obviously, its a wedding silly. he’d prepare a little wedding venue in his world by the beach, even going as far to design a cute little tux. it’s adorable, also don’t think for a second that he wouldn’t give you a kiss (giggling after) when the wedding officiant says you may now kiss. i also can picture kazuha buying you a promise ring irl , with a maple leaf engraved onto it. yes it was a animal crossing wedding, but it was YOUR WEDDING non the less.

another thing i can imagine is while you were playing the sims kazuha would 100% ask to create a little family with you. he’d even help to go “shopping” online for CC that would fit your characters or homes. kazuha DIES A LITTLE inside as you carefully curate each of the characters, spending hours deciding on the perfect outfits, hairs and personalities. coming up with mini fantasy stories about the mini yous and giggling along with him when they get a little too absurd. your cute family consists of you, kazuha and a little white cat. kazuha likes watching you get a little flustered whenever his character flirts with yours, sending a romantic haiku your way. not to mention the first time your character’s woohoo’ed he teasingly said:

“its honestly a shame that they’re the only ones that get to woohoo you know?”

anyway kazuha is 100% down to try as many games as he can with you, playing games with him is 10 bells out of 10 bells hehe

xiao

gamer xiao… yea he kinda scares me. xiao plays shooter games for sure, like obviously he’s had an eboy valorant phase but lets skip past that for now. its definitely more than normal to hear him grumbling how “dogshit” some of his teammates are. he’s definitely muted from chat on several games, also banned from league most of the time from being toxic in the chats.

playing competitive games with xiao is definitely an experience, and it definitely does not feel like the stereotypical pocket sage and hyper-carry jett. so please proceed with caution. the first time you and him played together, he may have gotten a little TOO HEATED and may have cussed you out on accident forgetting it was his loving, doting and caring partner who just wanted to participate in one of his hobbies. xiao doesn’t mean to get angry at you, please bare with him when the words “how is this person so fucking bad, how are they SO USELESS JUST GET OFF THE GAME DUDE” slip out. and oh boy… xiao immediately regrets his words, he feels so bad. he was actually overjoyed when you asked to play with him, even if he doesn’t actually show it, now he definitely assumes that you won’t ever want to play games with him EVER, hell maybe you want to break up. he’s spiralling. he apologises so much and he’s so awkward and so fidgety. its hard to stay mad at him, when he’s like this you have to admit he’s a little cutie. the next few days he’s definitely cautious and on edge around you, he finds it weird that you let go of the situation so easily and just moved on. he cant believe he let such vulgar words be thrown towards you. so after a conversation about his behaviour, you both decide maybe its best you just be an observer. you’re more than happy to straddle him, chin on his shoulder when he plays at his pc. and xiao LOVES IT, there is honestly nothing more comforting than you give him a little kiss when he starts to get a little too tense. occasionally when you face the screen and watch his games, he gets so nervous to play well. and xiao absolutely DIES when you compliment his abilities. bro needs the praise please, in that moment he thinks you’re so sexy and you have such a caring soul and his ears are tinted so red. don’t tease him though, he won’t be able to play the game properly.

another thing xiao is so weirdly good at is arcade games. i can picture arcade dates and xiao is just godly at them, claw machines, those basketball ones, car racing- you name it sweetheart and he’s earning those tickets like he needs to feed his 20 kids as a single dad. xiao acts so nonchalant about it, shrugging his shoulders as if this talent of his isn’t a big deal, but inside he’s so proud that he’s managed to get you that plushie he knows you’d been eyeing the whole day. he loves the way you grip onto his biceps pulling him to another machine to test his abilities, he may grumble about you overreacting but he’s so happy just to see you smile. and having you cheer him on the side is such an added bonus, you’re such a cute cheerleader. anyway i rate xiao a “please dont scold me baby im trying my best” out of “FUCK YOU FUCKING SUCK”

venti

horror games. literally venti HATES THEM but he cant get enough of it. playing phasmophobia would be so incredibly fun, but also a total shitshow. like im talking him making you do all the work while he intentionally provokes the ghost. at the same time he’s too scared to do anything so, he’s always really close to you. so if anything ever happens, you’d be a total idiot to think he’d try to help you, venti would be the first one out the door and running away. venti is also so horrendously LOUD, literally half the time instead of getting spooked by the game, your having a heart attack inducing jump scare from his random screaming. don’t even get me started on roblox horror games, every week there’s some new game he discovered on tiktok, and you are playing it with him, you have to.

another game venti loves to play is sims, but he’s about 100 times more chaotic compared to kazuha. he loves those ridiculous challenges and he wants to have like 10 babies with you, and then proceeds to cry when they are taken away from the sims version of cps. for some reason he has all the packs and likes to screw around with everything. he makes silly little bets with you in any game, for example in the sims he’d bet with you whether your 23rd child is going to be a boy or girl, most bets are harmless like a kiss or cuddles, unless he’s in the mood.

speaking of intimacy, venti needs to be holding you while playing games. arms linked, lying on your lap or you in his, honestly you just let him because he’s so cheeky about it anyway. venti also loves playing music related games with you, duh!! karaoke, guess the song, finish the lyric. ANYTHING!! whether you can sing or not, he just loves to hear your voice, definitely teases you if you cant though hehe. karaoke is so fun, if your shy he definitely eases you into letting lose and breaking out of your comfort zone, duetting with you is something he loves because music is his passion and honestly it hits so close to home for him. you’d often find him squeezing your hand as a form of encouragement.

im rating venti a solid 8 red bulls out of “i’ve already had 15”.

wanderer

this little emo baby is 100% only ever playing single player games, things that are extremely grindy and super lore heavy (bro is on subreddits looking at game theories and conspiracies, he would love to talk to you about them if you ever asked)!! im talking about bloodborne, doom, assassin’s creed and dark souls. he hates online multiplayer games because he doesn’t want to interact with “idiots” as he’s mentioned numerous times. so unfortunately its not often that you have a chance to play any type of multiplayer games with him.

however when it comes to his gaming sessions, he’d subtly invite you to come watch him because you’re like his own little streaming audience, and he loves it. the way you comment about how cool his character looks, or ask questions about gameplay mechanics. he loves how you involve yourself in his hobbies, it turns him to mush. he also loves how you play with his hair while peeking over his shoulder to look at the tv screen as he taps away at the controller. sometimes when the game gets a little boring he notices how your breath bounces off his neck, needless to say, those nights end up a bit more differently than how you originally imagined.

also if your ever interested in the game, kuni would “hesitantly” offer you to play on a new save file. but he’s actually elated that you’re going to try his FAVOURITE video game ever. you take your place in his lap as he explains to you the basics, not many would notice but you can ever so slightly hear the excitement in his voice. kuni complains about you being so lost but he’s so careful with explaining certain things, he’s also so patient as you take hours designing your character, well he’s okay being patient since its you. kuni absolutely DISSOLVES when facing a difficult boss, puzzle or obstacle, you kinda go into a slump against his chest and beg him to help you get past it. he snickers that your so weak, but somehow he manages to get through so swiftly- i guess he needs to show off a little to you. he also may complain a lot but thats just how this baby boy is, dont get discouraged he actually thinks you’re so cute.

also if you ever find yourself playing overcooked, moving out, gang beasts or any of those party games with kuni… good luck, just because he doesn’t like competitive games like valorant, DOES NOT MEAN HE ISNT COMPETITIVE. he gets so worked up and its honestly a little cute if you can look past the crusty white dog behaviour. if you do end up getting into an argument over these games, dont be surprised. im lazy to give a rating so im giving him 10/10, again minus the crusty white dog.

edit: if you saw “anyway wanderer is a straight” HAHA i apologise maybe thats why i should straight proof reading oops hehe

[goredev]

one thing that really surprises me is how people latch onto these extremely damning flaws i wrote into Gore, recently the second interludes "I didn't *make* orphans," line.

I think the takeaway is that you should be unfraid to weave these complicated, borderline objective flaws into your characters and give them a chance to correct them, make peace with them, and move on.

some people won't get it, and unfortunately (unless you like criticism, like me) you probably won't hear much from them, but you will see a few people, more than you expect, that just get it. people seem to desperately want characters that feel shame, agony, regret, hope, love, FEAR. i remember writing the MQ104 interactions and wondering why id never heard anyone making their followers borderline shit themselves over fighting a dragon. i wrote the lines for that, the small prayer he says beforehand, and said fuck it, let's see how people react.

it's almost always more impactful to humanize them, so don't be afraid to do that, lean into it fully. Gore was always meant to just be "some guy" and to have small, almost unrelatable (to most) problems that people can empathize with if they choose to, or completely ignore if not. keeping the stakes low and the scale small allows you to really flesh out the details a lot more. if you're working on someone new soon, try making them "just a regular person."

[s1l4s-l1k3s-t0m4t03s]

tw: ana, body shaming, body dysmorphia

this is kinda long so I totally understand if you don't want to read it :]

I think I might be developing ana

I'm really scared and I'm scared to tell my therapist or my parents because I'm worried they'll make me go to the mental hospital

my friends know and now at lunch or any time we eat together I can feel them looking at me and sometimes they ask me if I feel okay enough to eat which I can't stand

them drawing focus to food makes it so much harder to eat, it's so much easier when no one's paying attention to me

eating around people makes me extremely anxious and now I kinda regret telling my friends about this because now I just feel like they're pitying me every time we eat

I hate that I love the feeling of being hungry

I hate that I love how lightheaded and weak I feel after not having eaten anything all day

I hate how I hate my skinny body but I hate the idea of gaining weight even though I KNOW there's absolutely nothing wrong with it

I hate how difficult it is to find a chest binder that's small enough for me

I can't stand how many people think it's okay to comment on my body

I wear baggy clothes because I hate when people comment that I need to eat more after seeing how bony I am

I'm naturally skinny too, so I've heard this shit all my life "you need to eat more, you're too skinny" okay well how about fuck you for making me feel like shit about my perfectly healthy body

I think those comments are why I'm so anxious to eat around other people

I wish I could just be a normal teenager and eat more than 10 bites of plain pasta around my friends at lunch

with my body dysmorphia and gender dysphoria it's so hard to like the way I look

the only thing I like about the way I look is my hair (I have bright pink hair) but even still one of my friends always tells me how much she dislikes it and wishes I had brown hair because she never saw me with natural hair

and I have a feeling the guys in my grade think it's weird and I'm weird (that sterotypical emo kid with the emo haircut who uses he/they pronouns but wears skirts sometimes and has pink hair so obviously that just means they're a girl who's doing it for attention)

anyways sorry for the really long vent and thanks for actually listening to me if you made it this far. I hope things get better for you bc I know we're both just strangers on the internet but I really sincerely think that things will get better for you.

I'll end it lighter by asking: what's your favorite PTV song? I really love Stained Glass Eyes And Colorful Tears and Besitos :3

hii!! im so so sorry your dealing with that. by the soundd of it, your developing ed behaviours, if not, an ed. i understand the trans thing, about dressing or looking not stereotypically like a male/masc person yet still identifying as one. there is no right way to trans. your doing it right, your perfectly valif no matter how you look or whether you pass or not. people that point out your appearance are purely insecurr within themselves. you dont ever see secure people bullyinh do you??

with the eating thjng. they cant send you to a m3ntal h○spital unless you are a danger to somebody or yourself. if you are ☆ving yourself, there is a slihht chsnce you coukd get sent there. i would recommrned sayinh you are thinking of doing it, or beginnjng to develop so you can still get help, but not sent away.

if you dont feel comfortable eating arounf people, or are worried about people drawing attention to you, id recommened either flat out saying the topic of food makes you uncomfprtable, or eating when you get home. i get that fullt, im in a weird limbo between recovering and r3lasping, i eat a bit at school and the rest/something else at home.

weight gain can be scary, yes. i get that fully, you are not alone. but it doesnt change your worth at all. your still perfectly valid and fine, it may change your appearance but it doesmt take away from you as a person.

with the bindijg, if you cant currently get a binder, you can try transtape. if you have sensory issues, theres smt cslled milk of magnesia (liquid) you can put on the skin, let it dry fullt snd then apply the tape. if your struggling with the thought of gaining weight, but also not havjng the measurements to buy a binder, you could make it a goal.

"when i get to (xyz) weight, i can get a binder".

things like thst.

other than that im in the middle of class rn so my brain is a bit blank lmaoo

im very proud of you for venting dude, im so so sorry your exeperiencing this. try to get help, snd get out of ana as soon as possible if you can. itll mess you up for ljfe and you dont deserve thay.

my fav ptv song is today i saw the whole world (acousric ver) :) <3

edit:i would like to add, you dont need to change. even if you eat more and dont gain weight, thats perfectly fine. aim to be healthy,not to look a certain way or to be a certain weight :3 you do not ever need to change for somebody else

[buck-nialled]

Hello Kitty - B. Barnes

NOTE: for the sake of this imagine, let’s pretend that Bucky knows about HK. WARNING: contains smutty ending, do not read if you are below the age of 18! aka MINORS SCOOT! also this isn’t proofread so sorry if it’s shitty?

TAGLIST: @poetic-heart @hallecarey1 @moonlightbaby10 @5-seconds-of-bucky @bbl32 @wobblymug @iwannabekilledtwice @golden-hoax @barnes-lokison

SUMMARY: it’s your third date with bucky and you are dressed to impress...for the most part

“It’s our third date.” You admit shyly to Natasha and Wanda, who sat before you on your bed. The two women’s “oohs” had your body feeling much warmer in your bathrobe than moments before. You maintained your gaze on your bare thighs, with your fingernails continuously picking at loose pieces of fuzz on your robe.

“So what are you wearing?” Natasha quirks an eyebrow at you, the corner of her lips tilted up deviously. Wanda matches her expression, further encouraging you to stand up and retrieve the knee-length, red dress from your closet. Once again, the two “ooh-ed” simultaneously at the piece.

“I don’t think he’s ever seen a dress so revealing.” Wanda giggles. Natasha joins her with a few chuckles of her own.

“He might think he chose to go out with a harlot.” Nat jives, earning another barrage of laughs from the girl beside her. Yes, Bucky did have a few years on him, but it was nothing you enjoyed hearing others tease him about. Bucky Barnes knew how to put up a shell, and do it excellently. Something you are certain of though, is nobody enjoys having their age being commented on.

“Guys, come on…” You whine, tossing the dress onto your bed and returning to the seat at your vanity, where various makeup products lie scattered.

“We’re only teasing, Y/N.” Wanda’s hand, donning several rings, waves carelessly about. Natasha hums in agreement.

“What are you wearing underneath?” She questions.

“Underneath? Why’s that matter?” Natasha and Wanda both suck in a sharp breath, and exchange a wary glance. When they lock their bewildered stares back onto you and still say nothing, you begin to grow impatient.

“Hello? Am I missing something?” You fold your arms together, leaning back in your chair and looking at the expectantly.

“Y/N, it's the third date.” Wanda snickers.

“I know.”

“Then you should know that it’s important to wear the proper...undergarments.” Natasha mumbles.

“Look who’s sounding old now.” You turn in your seat and waltz over to your dresser. “What’s wrong with wearing what I normally wear?” You call back to them as your eyes study the selection of panties and bras displayed in your top drawer.

Natasha scoffs, before bluntly stating “Your sports bra and granny panties aren’t gonna get you laid, Y/N.” You take a deep inhale through the nose and spin around to meet the woman’s interrogating eyes. Part of you almost makes a comeback on the sports bra comment, but find yourself squeaking after processing her last few words.

“Laid?! Who says we’re going that far?” You nearly choke out, laying a hand on your cheek in mortification.

“Says anybody who’s ever dated anybody. Third dates require you to bring your A-game.” Wanda informs, now making you succumb to humiliation further. The girl is years younger than you and knows more about a stable love life than you ever could. “You have to dress up. Even underneath.” She adds.

You glance down at the sloppy bow you tied to keep your robe shut. “Well...that rule is stupid. And outdated. Who says we can’t go out on a third date, have a good time fully-clothed and end it that way?” You snip, turning back to grab a nude bra with a satisfied smile.

“Y/N, just take our advice. It’ll help you in the long run.” Nat begs, catching a sinister glint in your eyes. You make an indecisive noise, feeling giddy for keeping your friends on their toes, before declaring:

“No, I don’t think I will. In fact, to prove to you both how ridiculous that rule is…” Your hand shuffles around the drawer, away from Natasha’s and Wanda’s prying eyes. When you finally retrieve your most embarrassing pair of underwear, you elicit a devilish laugh and raise the piece of clothing, high and proud for their eyes to see. In sync, you watch their lips part and eyes grow ide.

“Y/N, no…” Wanda’s strawberry-blonde hair swishes on and off of her shoulders as she shakes her head furiously.

“Don’t do this.” Natasha continues pleading. But their desperate attempts to keep you from wearing the pair of panties, clutched tight in your grasp, is only further motivation for you to pull them on your body.

“Y/N, yes.” You nod. “If you two ladies don’t mind excusing yourselves, I have a date to get ready for.” Both women perceive your satisfied smile with doubtful frowns tracing their lips. Natasha and Wanda knew perfectly well that you would come to regret your decision later in the night. You, however, were too ignorant to realize the mistake you had just committed.

♥︎☆♥︎☆♥︎☆♥︎☆♥︎☆♥︎☆♥︎☆♥︎☆♥︎

“Thanks for taking me out, Buck. I had a really great time.” Your hand, entangled with Bucky's, lessens its grip. As the two of you approach the elevator to ride up to your floor, the red fabric adorning your body stops swishing at your knees. Bucky rests his vibranium hand against his chest, sparing you a smile nobody else in the compound would ever have the delight of seeing.

“The pleasure is all mine, Y/N.” His fingers remain laced with yours throughout the entire elevator ride up to your respective floor. When you began leading the way to your own bedroom, Bucky stops you with a proposal.

“Actually I was thinking about it, and uh…” the same hand on his chest moments ago winds behind him to scratch at the nape of his neck, “did you want to come to my room and chat a little longer.”

You graciously accepted the super soldier’s offer, but it was not long before your lips and tongues pursued more intimate activities. Currently, yours were forming escalating moans as Bucky’s mouth prioritized the space between your shoulder and neck, giving each patch of untouched skin his undivided attention.

“I gotta get this off of you,” he grumbles, yearning for more of your bare skin to meet his lips. Eagerly, his flesh hand searched the back of your dress up and down for a zipper. His vibranium hand remained at the bottom of your thigh, metal fingers tucked just below the red skirt of your dress and dangerously close to--

You suck in a sharp breath, eyes enlarging at the thought of the underwear shielding your privates. Bucky’s blue eyes, darkened by the dimly lit bedroom cast down to yours with concern.

“W-what happened? I didn’t hurt you did I?” You respond with a viscous shake of your head, desperate to not let this moment slip through your fingers.

“Just had a...small chill.” Your lips tremble at the sight of Bucky’s turning up into a smirk. You swear his eyes darken four shades in front of you too, complementing the burning list fueling your actions. His lips bend down to greet the shell of your ear, and this time, a sincere chill does run through your body. It sends tingles to your toes and an itchy feeling only Bucky can give you antidote for.

“Why don’t I warm you up, then?”

You’ll admit, for being over one hundred, the man still had power to every butterfly in your stomach, and each thump of your heart. Once glance from his blue eyes could send your knees wobbling, or worse, be to blame for a full on collapse. Currently, this charm of his was sparring with your inner-shame all because of what lies beneath your dress.

You remember why you put the pair of panties on in the first place, but you never expected your long-time crush to be witness to them. Taking a deep breath, you mentally prepared to deal with any future teasing from Bucky this moment would bestow on you. After all, it’d be quite nice to rub it in Natasha’s and Wanda’s face that you still got laid while wearing them.

“Yeah, I’d like that…” you elicit a nervous chuckle, following Bucky’s perusing eyes. You feel his hand still struggling to take hold of the small zipper and tug it down. His impatience grew clear when his warm palm and cool metal appendage dissipated from your back entirely, and instead, grasped the hem of the dress pooling at your thighs.

“Fuck it.” He mutters, and lifts the skirt of your dress up. By this point, your eyes were clenched shut and your teeth were grinding together in anticipation. Without realizing it, your fingers were clutching Bucky’s bedsheets for support of the various reactions feeding through your brain. Only did your hands release the cotton sheets when Bucky’s hands cloaked them.

You peeled your eyes open to see him, a cheeky smile lining the bottom of his face as he responded in a coy manner. “Nice panties.” A wave of heat filled your body from top to bottom, while your heartbeat reached a pace that you never knew to be possible. Bucky could hear each thump for himself, and chuckled to himself at the sight of you falling sheepish underneath him.

The blue beauties of his eyes dragged down your body to the light pink cotton underwear, where a familiar cartoon head was printed all around it. The yellow noses and dotted eyes stared up at him daringly, awaiting his next move. As did you.

A sharp breath leaps down your throat when a cool metal finger inserts itself through the side of your underwear, and you feel your stomach begin quivering at the feeling of Bucky’s vibranium hand sliding the panties down your leg in a teasing manner.

“Hello Kitty.” Is all he says, before introducing your wet heat to the magic trick that is his thick, pink tongue.

[romeulusroy]

Imagine Bucky recognizing you in Madripoor:

"Is this what you're doing, now?"

"Don't try to act holier-than-thou. I don't have many options." You couldn't stand to look at him. You knew what he was thinking, the expression he was wearing. Disappointment. Shame. Loss. You and Bucky went your separate ways. The Dora Milaje took care of you, treating you for as long as you needed. You would forever be grateful, but you couldn't stay there any longer. Even Wakanda was full of painful memories, of regrets that were too heavy to carry. So, you left without a word. It was easier this way. It wasn't a forever goodbye, you had a feeling your paths would cross eventually. It was inevitable. It was easy to slip back into the persona. It was easy to fall back into old habits. So, you pretended. Your mind intact, wearing the old suit, plating the same part. Working security for one of the many clubs. It paid. It scared anyone from messing with you. It gave you a freedom you haven't had in decades. Why couldn't it be enough for him? Why did he think it was so beneath you?

"You're better than this." Taking ID's? Pretending to be someone you're not? Bucky had always been adamant in the fact that, no matter what, you could always join him, his friends. Despite all your excuses, he made it known. How could you? You were sick of charity, of pity, of this part of your life being the most defining piece of you. You love Bucky in a way you could never love or understand anyone else, but you needed to be on your own for a while. You couldn't burden anyone else with your issues, especially strangers. They were heroes, the good guys, but what did that leave you being? Here, they were scared of you because you wanted them to. He never stopped thinking about you, wondering where you were, what you were up to. He never expected anything like this. He never expected to see what you were. You were begging him to bring it up, to throw it back in his face. Was he not acting like The Winter Soldier? You both knew it was easier to slip into old habits.

"I'm not the one befriending Zemo. At least I've still got some morals."

[elysianslove]

when the stars align; oikawa tōru

requested by anon; ❝ hi bb :) can I request an Oikawa and reader story where they’re two petty/sarcastic best friends. Like they just have that understanding that their love is shown through petty comments or bickering lol but n e ways, the reader gets approached by a guy she doesn’t really like but isn’t thinking and says she’s seeing Oikawa and now they have to act like a couple but all they end up doing is bickering and Oikawa complaining. I hope that makes sense lol thxx <3 ❞

pairing; oikawa tōru x reader 

warnings; it’s the fake dating trope with oikawa tōru. that is a warning in itself

note; i screamed when i found this in my inbox this trope has a special place in my heart and the fact that oikawa was requested??? pls don’t let this flop :(

━ you’re not sure why you said it. you rack your mind for an excuse: you’ve known him too long, you spend majority of your time with him, you had just been texting him a moment earlier — that must’ve been why you’d sprouted that ridiculous excuse to rid yourself of spewing out a futile, useless rejection. there’s an array of mixed emotions on you as you watch the boy before you shrivel in disappointment, sighing in frustration.

“i’m sorry, i’m dating oikawa right now, actually,” you had said, like the liar the same boy you refer to has coerced you into becoming to fuel your endless sneaking out.

the guy before you, honestly nameless due to both your carelessness towards him and your uncomfortableness around him, shoves his hands into his pockets cooly, attempting to shrug it off. “well, you know where to find me in case it doesn’t work out,” he jokes, and you have to fight off the urge to cringe directly in his face at his words.

instead, you lightly smile, more similar to a grimace, and nod politely, before turning and heading in the complete opposite direction, despite the other way having been your initial route. your shaky hands fumble for your phone, and you pull it out, unlocking it and tapping on the messages app.

i did something stupid, you type out, and you’re unsure whether you’re grateful or thrown off by how quick oikawa responds.

not surprising. what did u do

the familiarity of his tone only calms you slightly, and before you can talk yourself out of it, already having thrown yourself too deep when you’d thought up the lie, you explain the situation briefly. instead of a text message response, his caller id flashes across your screen, and your breath hitches. regret begins flooding you, and carefully, you slide to answer.

“i don’t want to hold your hand!” you complain, smacking at his palm when it reaches for yours.

oikawa sighs amusingly, grabbing your wrist anyways and linking your fingers together. against all odds, and to your disappointment, you shiver at the feel of his hand in yours. it’s considerably larger, and despite the fact that this is farthest from the first time you’ve gripped his hand, your insides twist. his fingers are slender, and his palm and the pads of his fingers are soft. for all the years you’ve known oikawa, his hands constantly run cold, and you’ve hated it for multiple reasons. one being the way it gave him an ego boost of ‘cold hands only mean i have a warm heart.’ the second being his infuriating actions of constantly pressing his palms to your skin, specifically the back of your neck. but most importantly, it signifies just how little oikawa tends to care for himself at times, the way his hands shake when it gets too cold, when the world grows too small, the tips of his fingers a bruised blue and purple. and you hate it. even more so, you hate how much you hate it.

despite all this, his hand feels — nice in yours; it’s a comfortable contrast to your own warm hand. still, your frown remains on your face as you see the school gates appear before two of you, never daring to reveal any of your thoughts to him.

“if you didn’t want to hold my hand, you would’ve thought up a better lie,” oikawa argues, and you turn your head to glare at him. he diffuses it easily when his thumb brushes against the back of your hand, your words faltering momentarily. “could’ve had anyone! iwa, mattsun, makki— i know they woulda loved to do this with you.”

“you’re insufferable,” you huff, but your cheeks are painting red, visibly too. he’s right, you realize. he’s terribly right.

“but you still chose me,” he teases.

your hand in his twists until you’re bending his wrist at an awkward, painful angle, until he’s pinching at your arm to force you away. he’s right, but that doesn’t make it mean anything.

by now, you’ve spent more time glaring at oikawa threateningly and in warning than you have your entire friendship with him, and it’s honestly starting to give you a headache. after admitting your situation to the three other third years, and giving them maximum fifteen minutes to laugh until they ran out of breath, iwaizumi included, spend the next twenty minutes huddled up next to oikawa, your chair attached to his.

the guy, who had been persistent enough in asking you out that you’d resorted to this, decided to spend his lunch break in the same area as the five of you, leaving you unable to push away and bicker with oikawa the same way you would any other day. you pick at your food as you avoid his gaze, oikawa’s arm around your shoulder heavy, leaving a trail of sparks up your spine and along your arms. it makes you want to scream, loudly too.

makki and mattsun have resorted to making fun of the guy, whispering between themselves, but it’s still awfully loud enough that there’s no possible way he can’t hear. iwaizumi and oikawa have their attention on each other, discussing some upcoming practice match in the weekend.

and all you’re left with are your thoughts, your nagging, unbearable thoughts, about how pretty oikawa’s hand looks as it hangs by your shoulder, brushing against your arm with every small shift of his body. with shameful, red cheeks, you shut your eyes in frustration, and allow the regret to boil and build in your stomach.

the weeks pass steadily. outside of school, your relationship with oikawa remains unchanged, and although he’s just as touchy as he is with you with an audience, the source of affection continues to be — simply friendship. and whenever you catch any disappointment building because of that, you pinch yourself in reminder than none of it is real. the way he always has an arm around you, the way he fumbles with your fingers, the way he ties your hair back for you while you work on an essay during your break, the way he kisses your cheek, a show of respect for your boundaries, but as a way to reinforce that you’re his in front of anyone, or the way he lets you lift one leg over his own, just because.

and you’re left wondering that if it were real, would it be the same?

he sits before you now, cross legged on your bed, back straightened and mouth stuffed with popcorn, completely engrossed in the movie before him with his eyes wide open. the three other boys are spread across the room: makki laying on his stomach, chin perched on his hands by the edge of the bed, while mattsun and iwaizumi share the couch, drinks in their hands, all three just as enamored by the movie as oikawa. 

you had always been aware of just how pretty he is, and everyone around you has always ensured that you do. was it the way the light from the screen shone in his face, reflecting in his pretty brown eyes and shadowing some of his features? or was it the way he sat so comfortable in your bed, in nothing but sweatpants and a loose shirt because, of course, the four of them were bound to stay the night? was it the way his lips glistened with the water he gulped, or because of the way his tongue poked out to lick at the salt from the popcorn? 

or was it nothing in particular, or everything all at once?

sighing lowly, you shift and sit up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and heading towards the bedroom door. “i’m gonna grab some water; anyone want anything?” you announce.

none of them seem to hear you, too lost in the movie, but makki turns his head to the side slightly, eyes remaining on the screen, and replies, “no thank you.” it’s all you need to leave the room.

as you walk out, oikawa eyes you, then eyes the filled up water bottles next to where you had been sitting. his heart tightens in his chest.

two months into the fake relationship you’d established with oikawa, and it begins to feel natural. it no longer feels off putting to walk hand in hand with him to school, or to greet him with a grandiose hug and a kiss on the cheek, or to wear his jersey to games and cheer for him from the stands, or to constantly have his ankle looped with yours beneath the table where, despite this all being for show, nobody can really see.

outside of your fake relationship traditions are your friendship traditions, which include, but are not limited to, him walking you home. it’s always been mostly because your mother adores him, or because he prefers the food that’s at your home as opposed to his, or because your home is on the way to his anyways, but it’s a lot closer, so he always ends up staying longer than anticipated.

either way, it’s not unusual that he walks by your side as the moon illuminates your path. it is, however, not very like him to stay quiet the entire way. you can see the roof of your home growing in size as you near it, and he’s yet to say a word to you. it both weirds you out and worries you, and before you can convince yourself you were overreacting, you pause in your step, the gravel beneath you scratching and crunching as you turn to face him.

“alright, spit it out.”

his eyes meet yours, wide and confused. “what?”

you sigh. “something’s up, and you’re either gonna tell me now or i’ll force it out of you later,” you reply.

“i’m not—”

“oikawa.”

“stop it, i’m fine—“

“tōru.”

“i can’t do this anymore.”

your heart stills, and almost as if in understanding, in pity, so does the world around you. the wind no longer howls in agony, respecting your need for silence as the trees around you look on curiously. your brain processes a little slower than your mouth, and you’re asking him, “what are you talking about?” before you could think.

his gaze falls from yours again, and he takes a step back. “i can’t be with you anymore. or — fake being with you anymore,” he admits to you.

you’re not sure why, but you had imagined this scenario to be a lot less earth shattering than it is. maybe you’d grown to like faking it, because it slowly started to become the closest you could get to experiencing it realistically. you refuse to speak, and it isn’t because you’re angry at him. it’s because you genuinely are lost for words. it’s not even a real break up, but it still hurts just as bad, if not worse. it’s your own fault for believing that this, whatever this was, was as simple as it seemed.

“not unless— not unless i can really be with you.”

what?

“what?”

he breathes in steadily, and moves forward, closer, closer, closer to you. his hands rise to your cheeks, cupping them softly, flinching when your breath hitches. but you make no move to push him away, only stare up at him, in wonder, in confusion. he opens his mouth, preparing himself to speak. you expect a monologue, a speech, a declaration of his undying love for you, because it sounds just as dramatic as oikawa is. the moon above you holds its breath, waiting for the band to snap, for the words to spill and drown you. 

but then he kisses you. 

his hands urge you up and he meets you halfway, pressing his lips to yours. they’re soft, and he tastes like cherry, and it’s probably your chapstick if you were being honest with yourself. his mouth moves languidly against yours, as if he’s trying to drag out every moment, as if he wants to purposefully slow down time, begging and pleading for the world around him to stop. the kiss is sweet, gentle, and somehow, kissing him is exactly the way you’d imagined it would. it’s breathtaking, and dizzying, and overwhelming, and needy and it’s beautiful. 

when he pulls back, he doesn’t let go of you. his hands remain cupping your jaw, his mouth hovering over yours. his thumb brushes along your cheek momentarily as he gazes at you, admiring you, as if memorizing every inch and every detail of your features. 

“tōru, you idiot,” you sigh. the insult isn’t foreign to him, not even on your tongue, but he still looks taken aback, and even more so when you reach up and close the distance between you again. the world lives again, the moon celebrating within the clouds, the wind twisting in your hair, whispering and whistling cheerfully by your ear as the trees dance.

 it all comes together, and the stars finally align. 

end note; i’m so happy with this!!! i hope everyone enjoyed reading this as much as i loved writing it!!! <3

[goddess-of-green]

hello! i was wondering if you could do a female!reader x orochimaru or madara? whichever of the two you prefer! scenario-wise, id be interested in a modern au where either works for madara/orochimaru or simply meet at a bar (or anything else you'd like to experiment with!). just no pet names, please.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, language, mentions of alcohol and intoxication

You sighed as you got home, kicking your shoes off and dropping yourself along with your things down onto your couch.

Laying face down in the cushions for a few moments wasn't as comfortable as you'd been hoping, and the exhaustion of your long day remained ever present in your being.

You could feel your muscles start to untense, but only slightly. They still felt locked in place by the invisible but powerful weight of all the stress bearing down on you.

Sitting up, you decided you needed a little help in easing your muscles.

Dragging yourself off the couch and into your kitchen, you searched for a drink to take the edge off.

Only finding cheap beer and milk, you narrowed your eyes at the options; unsatisfied with your findings.

You know what? I should go out. I deserve it. You thought to yourself.

You were going to get that drink you wanted.

Slipping your shoes back on and grabbing your things that you'd carelessly dropped onto the couch; you prepared to get in your car.

Actually...

You did not intend to come back home sober; you might as well get an uber there so you don't have to pick up your car tomorrow.

As your evening plans started to become a reality, you smirked. It wasn't a good day, but you were gonna make it one.

Once your uber picked you up, you simply had them drive you to the closest bar.

Well, maybe not the closest. You wanted some quality, after all.

Thanking and tipping your driver, a nice lady wearing a hijab, you made your way into the bar.

Seeing most of the sleazy guys there... you weren't exactly regretting not changing out of your work clothes before coming.

Most of the booths were occupied, and there was a surprising amount of people there for a Wednesday night. But like any other night, you supposed they more or less needed the same thing you did.

A damn break.

Being on your own, you decided to take a seat at one of the bar stools. Next to a lady with very long, thick, black hair.

After sitting down, and ordering your drink of choice, you let your eyes fall on the lady again.

Though the longer you looked at her, you realized that it wasn't actually a woman.

The curve of their jawline and the slant of their eyes was unmistakable.

It was a man, and a rather handsome one, too.

His hair was very well kept and though he looked tired, his features were still dangerously attractive.

He was slumped slightly in his chair, looking exhausted as he took a sip from his glass.

Noticing your stare, his dark eyes met yours.

"Can I help you with something?" He asked, his voice low as he looked you up and down; though you weren't sure if his gaze was of attraction or contempt.

Dear god, he had a sexy voice. You didn't have a voice kink but his voice might be enough to change that.

You didn't let any of your thoughts show on your face, let alone pass your lips as you brought your cup to your mouth.

"You have nice hair is all." You said simply, glancing down at your cup as you drank from it.

His eyes narrowed, as if he wasn't quite sure of your intentions.

"Hn, I know that." He said, and you got the feeling he was baiting you.

Trying to see what you would say, and how you would respond to his slightly arrogant words.

You hadn't really expected a positive reaction, from the looks of him. So you weren't surprised.

All you could do was shrug. "You asked." You said apathetically, waiting less than patiently for the alcohol to kick in as you shut your eyes.

He was attractive, but he seemed... what was the word?

Arrogant, pretentious... ?

Sexy?

Rolling your eyes at your own lewd thoughts, you downed the rest of your drink.

It had been way too long since you'd gotten some. No wonder such an asshole could get you going so easily.

You felt his eyes on the side of your face, but you ignored him as you ordered another drink.

And you may have been trying to impress him as you downed a particularly potent shot.

You were too prideful to look over and actually see if he had any sort of reaction, but you had clearly garnered attention from some of the other guys at the bar.

"Hey, beautiful."

A greasy looking guy leaned over you, invading your personal space and you had to force yourself to keep your lips from pulling back in disgust.

You only sighed, "What do you want, dude?"

"Ooh, feisty. I like it. Could I get you a drink?" He smirked, and this time you didn't stop yourself from making a face.

"I already have one, fuckface." You snarked, raising your glass in his face, "Bye now. You clearly just want to waste my time." You said.

Maybe you were being a little harsh, but you had a long day. The last thing you wanted right now was an ignorant man that could only think with his dick all over you.

With a curse, the guy left you. You must have hurt his ego.

"You aren't here for a man, then?"

The deep voice nearly startled you, but you managed to contain your flinch as you looked back to the man next to you.

"Tch. Some seedy man is the last thing I need right now. I just came for a drink." You said rudely, but that's the way you felt.

You wouldn't have even left your house if you had sufficient alcohol there.

You were starting to think that just going to the liquor store would have been a better idea.

The guy looked like he had something to say, but he was interrupted as a woman wrapped her arms around him, forcing his body to lean forward as his dark hair swayed with the movement.

The way the woman was angled, she couldn't quite see his expression, but he looked ready to murder her.

"Heeey! You are so hot. You know that? I'd love to have some fun with you~!" She sang, clearly drunk if her flushed cheeks and wobbly but bubbly demeanor were anything to go by.

She was wearing a lot of makeup, but it looked slightly crooked. Like she tried to reapply after shooting whiskey or something.

He shoved the woman off, not hard enough to really hurt her, but enough to get her off him and get the idea across.

"Not. Interested. Woman." He seethed, and the way he said woman almost sounded derogatory. Like being a lady was an insult in itself.

What a dick.

A hot one, though.

With a huff, the woman sauntered off; looking for fun with a more desperate guy.

"You aren't here for a woman, then?" You mocked, sipping from your cup as you gave him the side eye.

He narrowed his eyes at you, and looked back to his cup; as if he was disinterested in the conversation.

"No, not necessarily. Though I would be much more open to advances if they weren't from drunken idiots. Or just cretins, in general." He said, looking away from you as he spoke.

Furrowing your eyebrows at his words, you felt like he might have been suggesting something. You didn't want to appear presumptuous though, so you just finished your drink.

You were buzzed, hardly drunk, but you decided that you'd had your fill. And without further ado you slapped a few bills on the counter and grabbed your bag.

Noticing you were getting your things together, Madara raised a brow.

"Leaving already?"

Hardly glancing back at him, you sighed. "I got what I came for. No reason to linger around."

It's a shame though, he is very hot.

You narrowed your eyes at your thoughts, but you were stopped from leaving yet again by the man.

"What is your name?"

Slightly surprised, your expression glazed slightly as you adjusted your jacket, debating on whether or not to give this stranger your name.

With a shrug, you spoke. "Y/N. You?"

The man only hummed, "You'll find out soon enough."

"Whatever you say, man"

Only slightly creeped out, you finally left, dialing an uber so that you could get home.

As your driver arrived, and you sat down in the back, you saw something poking out of your bag.

It was a little piece of paper, with two words and a 10 digit number.

__

Uchiha Madara

(***) ***-****

__

With a smirk, you put the number into your phone.

[sgtjbbhasmyheart]

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Two

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2921

Warnings: bad language words, blink and you’ll miss the angst, just some fluff

A/N: divider credit- @firefly-graphics

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission

You awoke with a start, feeling as if you were late for work or something important and forgot to set your alarm. Your heart beat an erratic tattoo against your ribcage. Scrambling for your cell phone, you blindly reached across the side table near your bed in a panic. Unplugging the phone, you brought the device an ungodly closeness to your face. It was only 6:17. On Saturday.

Your pulse throbbed behind your eyeballs, and a strange stickiness coated the inside of your mouth. Did you drink that much last night?

How could you not? Timmons was a fair boss, and you enjoyed your job, but that dude loved the sound of his own voice.

The quarterly business dinners were mandatory for all employees, even for the P.A.s. Typically, they weren’t so bad, but last night, Timmons felt the need to toot his own horn for landing a massive contract with Stark Industries slash The Avengers. He went on and on about how great it was for the firm.

He was like a giant kid in a candy store with his ramblings. ‘We will be promoting the face of The Avengers and everything that goes with it,’ he spouted off like the firm was god’s gift to public relations.

You groaned at the reminder of last night’s presentation. The contract wasn’t even in effect yet, and you were sick of the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Timmons could be a real buzz kill.

Rolling to your back, you brought your phone up to tap the screen to read the emails you received overnight. On display was a text from 11:04 by someone named James. It read: “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

Your mind went back to last night again, trying to recall who this James was. He must be significant if you plugged his contact information into your phone already. Had you met someone last night?

Drawing a blank, you clicked on the text bubble to pull up the thread. Briefly scanning through the numerous texts, everything came rushing back. In an attempt to text your sister, Robyn, you mistakenly texted this mysterious, James.

You felt like an utter buffoon when you learned he wasn’t Robyn. You always did have a way with the cute boys. Probably why you were single. You groaned out loud as you read on.

You im safely inside my apartment. Pretty sure no one followed me home

James Did you triple check the lock on the front door?

You yes dad yeesh

James There are a lot of bad people out there. Just want to make sure you’re safe.

You sounds like you watch the news too much but its sweet of u to care

James I know from experience.

You r u the bad guy or have u been the one mugged?

James Let’s just say I have friends that have dealt with the bad things of the world.

You right i almost forgot ur a military-trained assassin athlete mchottie

James Did you ever send your sister a text?

You shit thanks for reminding me i have such a crazy story to tell her

James Only good things, I hope.

You oh yeah all the good things an enigmatic yet handsome stranger cares more about my safety than any of my ex-boyfriends ever did.

James My ma raised me right.

You id say

James_ I hate to cut this short, but I think you need your rest. Especially if you’re meeting your sister tomorrow._

You i dont want to agree but ur probably right

You whats ur name btw?

James My name? Why? Do you plan to continue texting me after tonight?

You duh ur fun to talk to

James Oh.

You or not its cool if u dont want to

James It’s James.

You nice to meet u james im (y/n)

James Nice to meet you as well.

You my sister just texted me back and were still meeting at 9 i should go 

You goodnite james

James Goodnight, (Y/N).

Oh. My. God. Had you seriously drunk-flirted with a stranger and offered to keep texting him? You had no shame with a few drinks in you.

You brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose and sighed loudly.

What did you know of this James? He had a New York area phone number. Check. He could have been a real dick about your mistake but wasn’t. Understanding. Check. He worried about you getting home safely in your inebriated state. Caring. Check. Not too forthcoming with the nine to five. Secretive. Check. His mouth looked so soft and plush, and his eyes were made to drown in. Gorgeous. Check.

A heat simmered beneath your skin as you recounted the shortlist you’d made. Were you lusting over someone you’d exchanged less than forty texts with? Had you somehow woken back up in high school?

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you stared at the screen displaying the message thread. Were you really considering this? You nodded your head to answer your own question. Where was the harm in a little shameless flirting? If worse came to worst, you could always block him.

With your mind made up, you began typing into your phone, constructing an apology.

You Good morning! First off, I want to apologize for the way I behaved over text last night.

You Though, I do like to imbibe in the occasional drink or two, I am, by no means, a lush.

You Please take everything I said with a grain of salt. Apparently, I get loose-lipped and cheeky with free wine. 😐

You Again, I’m sorry and understand if you wanted to cease our correspondence for my behavior.

You blew out a breath and tossed your phone aside. It was up to fate now and a stranger named James.

You laid in your bed for several minutes staring at the ceiling, contemplating between whether to send a ‘haha just kidding’ text and what the weather would be like, so you could forego shaving your legs in the shower today.

Your phone chimed during the pondering of hair removal, indicating a new text. You knew it was James proclaiming you a freak and to forget his number, but secretly, you hoped it was Robyn canceling today.

Seizing the phone from your mattress top, your heart’s beat increased with each second you went without looking at the screen. Finding the courage, you flipped the device over to read the message.

James Quite the formal apology, Ms. Professor.

You smiled at the text. It didn’t tell you to pound sand or eat shit. No, it was teasing and in jest. You sighed in relief.

You Cease our correspondence too much?

James No, no it was perfect if this was 1863, and you were breaking up with me via telegraph.

You Stop!

James Exactly! ‘Never speak to me again!’ Stop. ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ Stop.

A belly laugh disrupted the tranquil air of your bedroom. You quickly thumbed out a reply once you caught your breath.

You You’re incorrigible.

James I’m glad to see you are using proper capitalization and punctuation this morning.

You Ha!

You When you are buzzed and/or tipsy, capitals and periods be damned. Like you’re so perfect when you’re drunk.

James We all have our flaws.

Was he implying he was a sloppy texter when drunk, too? You shrugged it off as him being cryptic again.

You What are you doing up so early on a Saturday? I didn’t wake you, did I?

You were suddenly stricken with guilt. You should have waited for a more reasonable hour to send out rapid-fire apology texts. Not at 6:36 in the morning. You didn’t want last night’s behavior hanging over you, though. Better to clear the air now than later. You could always ask for forgiveness again if you had disturbed his sleep.

James I had just gotten back from my run when I saw your texts. I have training this morning.

You Oh, right. For your hush-hush, super top secret mission/quidditch game.

You You ever gonna tell me what you really do?

James_ Maybe. Someday._

How far away was someday? Was he planning to text you until you both died or until he got bored? How did texting relationships even work?

You Or is it one of those situations where if you told me you’d have to kill me?

James 😈

You There you go again--being all mysterious.

James Keep ‘em guessing and coming back for more.

You Has that strategy worked well for you in the past?

James Got you to text me again this morning, didn’t it?

You scoffed at what he had suggested. He was correct, but your stubborn streak would deny everything.

You The only reason I texted you this morning was to apologize for acting like a drunken fool last night.

And to squash the curiosity burning in your veins. But he didn’t need to know that.

James Oh.

The reply caused you to furrow your brow and your stomach to drop. You regretted not adding more levity to your last text. Of course, it wasn’t the only reason you were drawn to him.

You I appreciate that the selfie you sent wasn’t a dick pic. And you genuinely seemed to care about me getting home safely. Thank you.

You And maybe- a teeny, tiny bit- is honestly interested in getting to know you better.

You waited on pins and needles for his text, watching the pulsing ellipsis on your screen. Was he just humoring you?

James Hook. Line. Sinker.

Reading his response generated a flush from your jaw to your hairline. You growled in embarrassment. You fell for the oldest trick in the book. He baited you for a compassionate answer, and you delivered beautifully. Hook, line, and sinker, indeed.

You You’re an ass. I take everything back.

James Don’t be mad. I wasn’t sure how it was going to go, but you played into my trap wonderfully.

James If it makes you feel any better, all kidding aside, I want to get to know you better too.

James I fell asleep with a smile on my face last night and woke up with one this morning.

James Because of you, (Y/N).

A flutter broke apart in your chest. You hadn’t time-traveled back to high school; no, this was junior high territory.

You You’re lucky you’re so damn charming, James.

James Doll, you have no idea.

The subway ride into Manhattan usually gave you the chance to get a little reading in since it took nearly fifty minutes from Queens. Not today, though. You spent the entirety of the train ride texting back and forth with James. It was mundane stuff, but you were getting a grasp of who James was as a person.

You Favorite color?

James Black. You?

You Blue.

You Favorite ice cream flavor?

James Chocolate. Yours?

You Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia.

James I didn’t realize we were getting specific.

You We weren’t, but that’s my favorite.

You Favorite movie?

James I like the classics- The Wizard of Oz, It’s A Wonderful Life, Frankenstein.

You I have too many to list, so don’t ask.

You Okay. Lightning round because I’m almost to my stop.

James Where are you going again?

You paused your reply for a brief second, wondering if you should divulge your destination. You’d known James less than twenty-four hours; although, it felt like weeks after this morning. Where was the harm in telling him where you were meeting your sister? There were nearly nine million people in this city. There was no way you’d ever bump into each other.

You A bakery in the Upper East Side called Two Little Red Hens. Ever been?

James Don’t think I have.

You Well, since you like chocolate, they have a fantastic cake called Brooklyn Blackout. Super rich but delicious.

James Sounds right up my alley.

You Cats or dogs?

James I’m gone too much, so cats.

The answer piqued your interest. Maybe he was an athlete. Wouldn’t it be practice and not training, though? Or he’s FBI or CIA.

You Socks on or off for sleeping?

James Off.

You Silver or gold?

James Silver.

You Morning, noon, or night?

James Night.

You How do you take your coffee?

James Room for sugar and creamer.

You Boxers or briefs?

James Boxer briefs.

You laughed out loud, looking around the subway car to see if anyone was paying attention to you. Per usual, they weren’t.

You Touché.

As soon as the train stopped, you gathered your purse close to your body and made for the exit. You followed the crowd of fellow passengers through the turnstile and ascended the stairs onto street level.

The morning sunlight caressed your skin like a warm blanket. The humidity wasn’t too bad, yet, but the threat of afternoon thunderstorms still hung in the air.

Even with the reasonably early hour, the sidewalk was stuffed with people, carrying to-go coffee cups or shopping bags. You fought for your little spot of real estate on the grimy concrete.

Stopping at a red traffic light, waiting to cross, you typed out another question for James.

You Pineapple on pizza--yay or nay?

The light changed as you finished, and the throng of pedestrians around you guided you across the street. You spotted Robyn outside the bakery as your phone dinged with a new text alert.

“Wow, I’m surprised you made it on time,” Robyn said as you hugged hello.

You looked at the clock on your phone. 8:58. “You and me both, sister.” Glancing back at your phone’s screen, you giggled.

James What kind of monster puts pineapple on their pizza??

“What’s so funny?” Robyn asked as you accompanied her through the bakery’s door.

With a grin on your face, you punched out a quick reply:

You Well, it was nice knowing you, James. It was a swell friendship while it lasted--a whole 11 ½ hours.

Robyn elbowed you softly in the ribs with a look on her face, seeking an explanation.

“Ow,” you grunted. “What?”

“You tell me. I half expected a zombie to walk through the doors today after your text last night. Not Suzie Sunshine.”

You both edged closer to the counter as the line in front of you dwindled.

James Say it ain’t so, doll! Pineapple on pizza? Really??

You let out a low chortle as you skimmed the text. You glimpsed up at Robyn as you shuffled forward in line again. “Believe me, I’m pretty hungover,” you replied, shoving your phone in your back pocket. “It’s a funny story. I’ll tell you everything when we sit.”

Robyn stared at you warily, still trying to figure out what had come over you. “Okay,” she conceded, stepping to the register to order.

With each of you supplied with an iced coffee and a peach ginger scone, you found an empty table by a window along 2nd Avenue and proceeded to tell Robyn about James.

When you stopped to catch your breath, remembering the whirlwind the last twelve hours had been, you peered at your sister for her reaction.

She stared at you like you’d grown a second head. She shook her head in disbelief. “(Y/N), what where you thinking?”

Your brow pinched in confusion. Was she actually scolding you? You crossed your arms over your chest. “I was thinking about how my big sister is always telling me to meet new people and how it’s time I thought about settling down.”

“Not like this it’s not,” she hissed. “This is how your body parts end up in someone’s freezer!”

You choked on the piece of scone you shoved in your mouth before she started ridiculing you. After coughing to clear your airway and taking a sip of your iced coffee, you leered at Robyn. “Oh, my god! Dramatic much? Have you been binge-watching Dateline again? Jesus Christ, Robyn, he’s harmless,” you countered.

“You think you’ll be so careful, but you’ll let one little detail slip, and he’ll find you,” Robyn said before taking a pull from her coffee.

“You mean, like, how I was meeting you at Two Little Red Hens at nine o’clock?”

Robyn’s mouth popped open in an O. “What the hell, (Y/N)?” she stage-whispered. “Are you trying to get yourself kidnapped and sold into sex trafficking?”

“Please,” you drew out in one long syllable. “He doesn’t know what I look like. How would he snatch me?”

“He could look you up on Facebook.”

“Without a last name?” You shook your head, no.

“What about a reverse search on your number?” Robyn asked, pushing the plate holding her scone away. “That’s a thing.”

“Perhaps, but it seems like a lot of effort for a mistake I made. It wasn’t like he was seeking me or anyone else out.”

Robyn huffed out a breath and folded her arms in exasperation. Always the protective big sister. You could tell you were breaking her down, though.

“C’ mon, Robbie. It’s all in innocent fun. I’m not saying I’m hoping he’ll turn out to be Mr. Right, but the banter is fun,” you remarked. “James is charming and witty and nice to talk to.”

Robyn shook her head once more, frowning. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

You reached across the table for her hand and squeezed gently. “Me too.” You smiled slyly, remembering last night’s dinner and Timmons gushing about The Avengers. “If not, I know how to get ahold of a couple of centenarians who know chivalry isn’t dead.”

Chapter One | Chapter Three

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[eutaerpe]

the escapades (m)

pairing — jimin x reader

genre/warnings—  smut (oral, fingering, orgasm denial) & college!au, fratboy!jimin, brief e2l, brief ewb, acr universe

summary —  the one where there’s a lot of unresolved sexual tension, until there isn’t.

notes — 8.3k words of the happiness before the storm i couldn’t write. i realised halfway through this there’s a slight plotwise change in comparison to what i wrote in acr so. yeah. sorry. kudos to you if you find it lol

The first time it happens, you’re pretending to be someone you’re not.

You’re sitting near the end of the table, crossing your legs and playing with the hem of your dress, your lips twisted into a frown. The real reason lying behind the simple decision of having a single, almost infinite table of guests doesn’t, in the slightest, cross your mind; why your idiotic brother would see this as a delightful idea really is above you, but you suppose the valuable genes in the family runs all in your DNA.

You’re playing with the table decorations while waiting for the guests to come, and it’s so fucking boring you regret telling Seulgi no, babe, what the fuck - you even shook your head and decided to sound extra mad at the idea - I won’t sneak in weed.

Too bad for you, she had answered, a cute pout on her lips, I’ll give you an hour before you’re bored out of your mind.

The truth hangs above your head, with a sheepish grin: you just needed ten minutes to be absolutely, drastically bored.

In hindsight, sneaking in weed wouldn’t have been the worst idea: your mother is talking to the in laws, gesticulating excitedly at the idea of kids right after marriage. What the fuck, you text Seulgi, at home trying to get out of bed, my brother has been married for an hour and there’s already baby talk going on at the table.

 Seulgi

[12.49]

With the baby talk comes the dick talk

 You

[12.49]

Oh no the dick talk

 Seulgi

[12.50]

man how can you survive your relatives talking about nonexistent boyfriends without my weed, damn???

 You

[12.50]

option a: I’ll tell them I’m dating you

 Seulgi

[12.50]

we kissed ONE time

 You

[12.50]

option b: I’ll tell them I’m in a relationship with Jeon jungkook

 Seulgi

[12.50]

bitch we both know you’re not in a relationship with the hottest guy on campus. he has dimples and long hair and piercings. my sources can even confirm he has a big dick. what do U Have

 You

[12.51]

i was talking about my vibrator but go off lmao

anyway I’ve had that D ;)

 Seulgi

[12.51]

you’re officially cancelled

when did this happen? I can’t believe you’re telling me over text!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 You

[12.51]

last semester!!!!! why do you think I’ve named my vib after him!!!!!!

 Seulgi

[12.52]

because you’re lusting after him like the rest of us mortals!!!!!!!!!!

 You

[12.52]

I’ve upgraded since then. I’ve leveled up. I’ve seen things People Can’t Even Imagine

 Seulgi

[12.52]

just say he got u off and go

 You

[12.52]

;p

anyway option c: I scare them away by saying controversial things. Id est: I don’t believe in love. I am choosing my partner solely judging their abilities to finger me under a table when people are around. I am secretly lusting after my brother’s wife. I am trying to get impregnated like in The Sims 2 aka I am waiting for that alien dick.

 Seulgi

[12.52]

hate to break it to you babe but that’s literally who you are

 You

[12.52]

i

I literally compliment joohyun’s boobs once and this is the treatment I get

 Seulgi

[12.52]

are we not gonna talk about your alien dick kink

 You

[12.52]

no kink shaming in this house lady

option d: I listen to their complaints and run

 Seulgi

[12.53]

option dick

man sorry I meant option d

 You

[12.53]

you didn’t

 Seulgi

[12.54]

ur right I didn’t

 Option e, also known as I’ll entertain the other guests so I don’t have to talk to you, presents itself in the form of one very hot, very ripped young man sporting the most expensive shirt in the room. You’re only human when you admit to yourself, mental sigh, that he ticked all the let’s get y/n horny requirements in less than fifteen seconds.

You can’t believe Joohyun has kept him hidden for so long from you. Such betrayal ends when your brother, Kim fucking Seokjin, hugs him tight and brushes with utter affection the nape of his neck, gracing him with a warm smile and a heartfelt laugh.

You can’t believe Seokjin has kept him hidden for so long from you.

Well. Scratch that. You can.

Suddenly, the ticked requirements disappear and a giant neon sentence with a very cheap background music impose themselves in your head. WHAT A TURN OFF! they read, the neon red words mocking you; you steal a glance at your brother’s acquaintance one more time - one last time - before slipping your phone in your hands and dedicating yourself one more time at your Instagram feed, scrolling through the most recent pics.

(You stumble upon an extremely rare Jungkook selfie, and you hate to admit you spend the following thirty seconds admiring him before tapping twice on the quality content you’ve signed up for when you joined the social)

You suppose that, even though your brother’s friends with fuckboy tendencies are signed off your let’s get to know each other better ;) list, it doesn’t mean the same goes for them.

So, when the dark-haired young man with a jawline sharper than Seulgi’s retorts after her third beer sits next to you, you reckon you shouldn’t be that surprised.

He acts all casual, you notice while discreetly looking at him; he’s busy taking off his jacket and flexing his muscles, all of this while pretending not to notice you, and you find it immensely cute.

Ah, fuckboys.

“Fuck,” he rasps, lips twisted in a crooked smile, “I didn’t think it would be this hot today.”

“Yeah, sorry, the heat is on me.”

He chuckles in disbelief at your words, eyes turning into crescents.

“Right, there’s always the girl stealing the bride’s spotlight at weddings.”

“Oh! That’s me,” you nod enthusiastically, “That’s one hundred percent me.”

“Groom or bride?” He asks, pointing at the couple with his chin.

“What do you think?”

He looks at you funny, pressing his back on the seat, pondering in silence. Cute.

“Bride. One of Bae’s sorority sisters, maybe? You seem too young to be her age, though.”

“Damn,” you exhale, crossing your arms under your chest, “I can’t believe you got it all wrong. The expectations were low, but I’m still disappointed.”

He ducks his head, still smiling. “Then it’s the groom. How do you know Seokjin?”

Your eyes twinkle with excitement at your next words, but honestly, who can blame you? You’re having fun with this lost, cute chick.

“What’s your take, officer?”

He erupts into a laugh, and you drink in his handsome features; fuck you, Seokjin, for being friends with fuckboys only.

“Alright,” he punches the bridge of his nose, scanning the room, which is slowly filling with other guests. “I’m his friend, and I know all of his friends, which can only mean one thing: option a, you’re one of his ex-girlfriends; option b, you’re one of his secret hook-ups; option c, you’re an old friend from high school.”

“Oooh,” you beam, unrealistically intrigued, “You really suck at guessing, don’t you?”

He laughs, passing a hand through his dark locks, messing his perfectly styled hair. “Ok, fair. Which one was the closest, then?”

“Option d, of course.” You nod, relaxing your features into a sheepish grin, “I’m his much more beautiful and smarter sister.”

You exam his face, now twisting into some sort of what the fuck, such betrayal look, and you take in, for the last time – really the last, this time – his attractive, sculptured face, his full lips, the smoothness of his skin. It’s awful and unfair knowing you two won’t cross paths ever again in your lives, but at least you had some fun messing with him before things could worsen.

“I’ll be sitting in the middle of the table, with my family, if you want to avoid me.”

You wink at him for good measure, and you swear to god he blushes.

 Half a wine bottle and two flutes of prosecco down, you realise you underestimated your resident fuckboy.

It happens when you’re grabbing your napkin and channelling your dreamy, happy looks towards the newlyweds, dancing in the middle of the room, their eyes gravitating only towards the love of their lives.

You sigh, pouting for the smallest of fractions, when you feel someone sitting at your side.

“You know,” Fuckboy begins, and you picture him licking his lips as he pauses, “Now I get why he never told us anything more than: I’m not an only child.”

“I know,” you exhale, turning to face him, “Seokwon is the real catch of our family. We’re really protective of him.”

“He’s married. With kids.”

“I was there when the twins opened their eyes, thank you.”

“We thought you were either a small kid or a forty years old woman.”

“Wait,” you tilt your head, “How did you know about us then? And who’s we?”

“We dug into his stuff and he caved in, admitting he had a brother and a sister.” Fuckboy looks at you, eyes dark but reflecting the dim lights of the function room, “Us. The frat guys.”

“Right, the fuckboys.”

He looks taken aback by your statement, bewildered, and you take advantage of his reaction to stand up and head away from him. It’s his words that stop you from doing so, though.

“You don’t know us—”

“—except I do know your pledges and your brothers.”

“But you don’t know me.”

“Maybe,” you shrug, “I prefer to steer away from my brother’s friends, though.”

“Right,” he says, tightening his lips in a hard line, almost hurt, “So, who am I to interfere with your judgmental thinking?” He clicks his tongue, then, a resolute exhale slipping past his lips, smothered by his own tingling despair.

The words hurt.

You don’t know what exactly pinched your senses hard, if the tone or the wallowing sadness swimming in his expression, but, as he stands up and leaves, you’re left facing the cold, hard truth.

The words hurt, you hurt, and you feel guilty.

You say nothing, glancing in the direction of the first alcoholic beverage around, and you fill yourself a glass.

Had it been someone else – had it been another sentence, another less sickening scenario, you would’ve felt proud, righteous. You’re, instead, on the other side of the feelings spectrum, all filled with crippling guilt and a nauseous, pervasive feeling you can’t quite name and pin down.

The guests are dancing around you, moving hand in hand to the rhythm of the pop love song now playing; the ballroom is packed when you let your impulsive side make a choice, eyes following the guy’s composed figure. You can drastically feel the sweat, and the heat the people are radiating, when you stand up and move towards him, the only smiling boy passing his glass from a hand to the other.

You’re close enough to tap his wrist and brush your fingers, which you do; it elicits a gasp from him, all soft, not scathing around the edges yet able to bite you, anyway. It’s the guilt, you remind yourself, looking for a sign of some sort of inclination to accept your apologies between the crease of his brows and tight jaw, and everywhere in between.

It’s sickening—this boy didn’t exist four fucking hours ago. It didn’t even cross your wildest dreams, someone like him. His shape – his silhouette – has left a print in your mind, and no matter how hard you try focusing on something else, someone else, your mind keeps going back to the shape itself.

But you’re a coward, so, while he lets you intertwine your fingers, you admit, voice loud: “I wanna dance.”

He handles you properly, kindly, before pushing you in the crowd and brushing your hips with his hands, all rings and jewellery adorning them.

He blinks twice, biting the insides of his mouth, but he manages,

“Who says I wanna dance?”

Which is a bit stupid, or hypocritic if you might, because he’s swaying you to the rhythm of a ballad the pop love song turned into. You break into the smallest of smiles.

“I want to apologize.”

He scoffs. “I don’t know you,” he says, funnily enough, “But that seems almost unlikely, coming from you.”

“Yeah, you got me there, officer. I was, uhm,” you stare blatantly at his neck, and you suppress the desire to stroke your fingers’ pads on his soft skin, “I was out of line. I’m sorry. You were right, I don’t know you. I do know your frat brothers, my own brother, but that doesn’t mean I know you.”

He hums, moving for a small fraction of instants his thumbs on your hips and it’s enough for your breath to catch into your own throat. He nods, which could mean anything, from I accept your apology to go fuck yourself, this is bullshit. You prefer the former option, if you’re being honest, which is the answer you settle for in your head, hazed and absolutely hazed and madly hazed because of his small physical contact.

To put this into the simplest terms, Seulgi’s words, you don’t like this.

“I like dancing,” his eyes tower you and gaze at the other people dancing; you wonder if he’s thinking about them, who they are to you, what role they played in Seokjin’s life, if they’ll show up to your wedding, too. These thoughts popped into your mind unannounced, before, at the table, before the not-really-fuckboy sat next to you and made you feel guilty. Such absurdity; yet here you are, in his arms. Oh god, what would Seulgi think of you if she saw you?

“Good to know, I’m awful at shoulder-hips coordination.”

“Shoulder-hips coordination?” he inquiries, lips parted.

“Uh, body rolls?”

“Oh,” he chuckles, “I see, you mean classy grinding.”

“I don’t do classy grinding, sorry,” you retort, head tilted to a side.

His smile his amused. “Too bad, shoulder-hips coordination is a nice trait to exhibit sometimes.”

“I prefer hips coordination. Well, hips rotation.”

“Hips rotation?”

“Riding? Is the term somehow unfamiliar to you?”

He flushes, biting back a grin and fixing his gaze somewhere in the crowd. How cute.

“Not at all, it’s nice to meet a hips rotation enthusiast here, though.”

“Statistics say at least a member in each family is a riding enthusiast, did you know?”

“Shit, talk dirty to me,” he licks his lips, pointing at Jin with his chin, “Didn’t peg him for a rider, though. Not at all.”

“I’m starting to think you’re not a STEM major, are you? You’re lacking basic intuition, my friend.”

“Is this your attempt of discovering my major?” – he eyes you, a flick of amusement burning in his orbs – “You’re not very smooth, you know?”

“I have my moments.”

He snorts, placing both hands on the small of your back. You’re at height level with the base of his neck, and it’s fun how your mind betrays you in such moments, providing mental images of your nose brushing against his skin, and you nuzzling in the crook of his neck. Such taunting, invasive pictures. Fuck off, you reprimand your own mind, fuck off.

“I’m Jimin.”

“Jimin,” you taste the name on your tongue, hitting the back of your front teeth. “Jin never talked about you. I’m Y/N.”

“Jin never talked about you either.”

“Of course he never did, I’m prettier than he is.”

His little dimples make an appearance. “You know, you could really steal the bride’s spotlight.”

“That was my ultimate goal all along, even though I prefer the dark side.”

“I,” he licks his lips, and you don’t know why you’re following the gesture, “I meant to say you’re beautiful.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper, eyebrows raising, “Are you a charmer?”

“I mean,” he begins, sheepish smile on display, “I never kiss and tell.”

“Touching.” He smirks. “How sweet of you.”

“You know what else is sweet?”

“Please,” you beg, meeting his eyes, “Don’t say my pussy.”

“Please,” he repeats, same mocking tone, “The possibilities are endless. Your mouth,” he scoots closer, words whispered on the shell of your ear, “Your mouth around my dick,” he almost nibbles your ear, “Your mouth screaming my name.”

“My pussy,” you add, trying not to lose your mind.

“I would never call sweet something I’ve not tasted.”

He raises a brow.

“Are you offering? You’re not very smooth, you know?”

He ignores the last question, tightening his grip. “In the middle of your brother’s wedding? Seokjin’s wedding? I’m not a dick, even though you sitting on my face would be a sight to see.”

“Right?” your voice doesn’t falter for a second, “That’s what I always say”

“Nice to see how we’ve got much in common. But I was thinking of something else, actually—” His face is once again inches away from yours, ear to mouth, hot breath fanning over you bare neck. “I wanna finger you.”

Oh.

“Under the table. Right behind you. Wanna make you whimper.”

It’s almost like being tongue-tied, fumbling for words, body flushing, but you gather somewhere the strength to form an actual sentence, which makes him smirk devilishly.

“I can be very quiet.”

He pokes his tongue into his cheek. “Bet you can’t keep your pretty mouth shut.”

“When I win,” you say, lying your words on an unrealistically high vote of confidence, even for yourself, “What do I get?”

He licks his lips, slow, savouring the moment. “You get to ride my face.”

“Not your dick?”

“I’m not a fuckboy, baby.”

A comeback of some kind is already on your tongue, but – there’s a kiss somewhere in the following seconds, all wet and tingling and perhaps filled with too many lip bites, but he can’t really blame you when you’ve been brushing your thighs together for the past minute, heat pooling down your belly. It’s enough for you to silently pledge for more, and for him to tease, because he takes a step back, smirk in place and lips reddened, and guides you towards his seat at the end of the table with a hand on the small of your back.

Downhill begins as soon as you sit down, legs barely parted, a minimum space not fitting for his plans, apparently, because the crease between Jimin’s eyebrows grows when he nudges them apart with his hand, the cold metal of his rings cooling down your flushed state. You want to gasp at the sudden intrusion, but the sound is swallowed entirely by his hot mouth on yours, distracting once again, incredibly soft and alluring. This kiss is slow, this time, like he’s taking his time tasting you and learning about the hums he draws out of you, the shyness of your previously biting tongue, and how fast you get lost in the kiss itself. You press a chaste kiss on his mouth, before creaking a space between you.

“I’m starting to think you’re all bark and no bite”

He doesn’t answer, but stares into your eyes with his hooded gaze, and he manages to sneak a hand furtively under your dress not breaking the contact. His skin is warm, but you’re warmer, and his destination is even hotter. He cocks his head, fingers brushing against the soaked, sticking material you used to call panties up until fifteen minutes ago, and he must notice—his eyes grow wider, his jaw tightens and his hand gains courage.

Fuck. This should be embarrassing, getting worked up over dirty innuendos and a kiss or two, but you’re instead feeling flushed and more. More sensitive. More open to the idea of him ruining you, even though that’s not what he’s offering. Or— is he?

The question lies unanswered when his digits rub with a sparkled intensity over both your clothed sex and your inner thighs. It’s a continuous, mellifluous melody, his fingers dancing between the two until he settles on your panties only, and that’s when you almost let out a soft moan; you don’t, he raises his brow, challenging, but you don’t, and instead glance around to notice if someone has his eyes on the both of you, sitting in the furthest region of the fucking smart, endless table.

He raises the stake, flushed: Jimin pushes your panties on one side, petting with his index your exposed self, and you suck in a breath. He continues to do so, face still, closing the distance between you two.

You don’t question the sudden kiss, instead you angle your face and close your eyes and let him press his lips on you. This feels like being drunk, or high, stretching underneath a sky dripping with stars. You cup his face with your hands, his lips so terribly soft and inviting, the smallest of smiles meeting your own chapped and curved upwards lips.

It’s when you’re merely inches away from him that he thumbs at your clit, sensitive and tingling, circling with utmost peace and no speed whatsoever. You pout at little, you realize, which makes him melt either cause of your cute frown -oh, how the tables have turned- or simply because he’s the devil himself, pressing a finger against your entrance and delving it into your heat.

“Cute,” he purrs, kissing you, “Is this okay?”

The crude, hot, nerve-wracking fingering has begun, which makes you, quickly enough, putty in his hands and ablaze with ardour for this man whose rasping voice could kill you.

“Yeah,” you breathe on his mouth, eyelids drooping closed, “Yeah, all good.”

You hum to yourself as he starts pressing kisses on your jaw and your neck, a trail of treacherous flames lighting up your skin, and you have the audacity to sigh under his ministrations, a tiny, strained sound not quite a mewl.

If he hears, he doesn’t show it. You’re biting your own lip when he enters a second finger, filling your searing emptiness.

“Want three?” he asks, voice husky and as desperate as you are under his touch. He adds it when you nod, the squelch louder than before, and you moan, rocking your hips against his fingers.

“Shh, baby,” he coos, placing his other hand on your hips, slowing your movements, “Be a good girl.”

He fucks you deep, fast, fingers clashing against the silky dress you’re wearing and sweat sparkling on his forehead. He swallows another moans of yours, sucking your bottom lip and tugging it between his teeth. You’re close. You’re so close, and it’s only been a couple minutes. You can’t hear anything that isn’t your wet pussy clenching around his fingers, his rhythm ruthless and burning.

“Too bad you’re not coming on my fingers, today,” he says before kissing your neck and emptying your dripping pussy, then proceeding to taste and lick his own fingers in his mouth. He lets them out with a small pop, and it’s the most terrifying sight you’ve ever had in front of your almost watering eyes. “I’m sorry I won the bet, though, your pussy is the sweetest I’ve ever tasted.”

That’s the high and dry story of how you first met Jimin.

/

 The second time it happens, it’s under completely different circumstances, and, substantially, against your every predictions, it really happens. It takes place, like a once in a lifetime event: there’s an orgasm involved, not due to the very charming and never disappointing Jeon jungkook the robotic version, and instead it involves a rather attractive asshole with a persistent smirk plastered on his face.

Except it’s a lot more complicated than what it sounds, and most of it is Seulgi’s fault.

Your roommate had pouted all evening, because that’s what semi adults do when they’re denied a companion for the night.

“I just wanna get wasted. It’s been one hell of a month, and you know how I get when I’m stressed.”

“I can suggest you a vibrator and a bottle of vodka. Do you settle for that, your honor?”

“The more you talk like this,” all self-absorbed and assertive and cautiously, like when talking to a kid, she begins, hands in her long, mahogany hair, “the more I just wanna push you up against the wall.”

“Sounds to me you just wanna get laid.”

“Maybe I do,” she huffs, hands on her hips, the light of your abat-jour highlighting her golden skin. “Maybe I don’t. What I know is that I wanna get wasted. Come with me, pretty please?”

“Look,” you raise your eyes from the book you’ve been holding, stretching a leg onto the unmade bed of yours, “I just wanna get this fucking paper done. I need,” you grip the phone on the bed table, checking for the white, large numbers on your lock screen, “an hour. An hour and half to edit it and I’m all yours.”

“This paper is due on Thursday, though.”

“Yeah, but I have a reputation to uphold in the family. Have to be the most beautiful and successful.”

“You’re full of shit,” are her last words, muttered with a smile as she grabs her jacket.

“Hey,” you call, stretching your neck towards her, “I don’t care if it’s two am and you’re already wasted. Call me and I’ll come to you with a whole bottle of vodka to make it up to you. Hell, I’ll even kiss you goodnight.”

“I don’t wanna make out with you, you freak.”

“You didn’t say that last time, baby!”

 Seulgi

[2.13]

wassup bitch

make out with meeeeeeeeeeeeee

[location shared]

com n get me littl nuggrt

 Not Sober Seulgi is probably the worst Seulgi you have ever dealt with. You let out a sigh, eyeing the frat dorm all lit up and vibrating to the trashy trap music the insiders are jamming to.

Of course, when it comes to Not Sober Seulgi, there’s boys involved. Frat boys involved. At first, you don’t pay attention to the details, the signs, surrounding you like blinding traffic lights signalling stop stop stop, all red and striking. The thought doesn’t cross your mind, the dots connecting in some hidden part of your brain not making your insides short circuit—instead you’re knocking on the door, then banging on the very wooden entrance until a face shows up; the dorm is dimly lit, and the face is partially lightened by a soft, hued red and, that, too, Future You pinpoints, should have been a sign.

It’s useless, anyway, because you hear the insider talk and you’re burning instantly, like after touching a steaming, hot cup of coffee, except that bitter coffee is still good coffee. Smug Jimin plus bitter you isn’t really sweet, nor a match made in heaven. It’s chaotic, a caustic explosion, and you both know it, judging from the sharp smile he offers you, after blinking lazily at your figure.

“This is a mixer party only,” his soothing voice welcomes you, “Do you have an invite?”

You press your tongue on your teeth, mouth carefully closed.

“Yeah, from Hell, I’ve come to take a fallen angel.”

“Sorry to break it to you, oh-kind-lady, but we didn’t give any invite to poor, damned souls.”

“Too bad I don’t give a fuck about your policies, then,” you move towards the small space between the door and Jimin’s body, but he interferes, placing himself right between the two. “Look, I don’t give a single fuck about this party.”

“Yeah, it sure looks like it.”

You roll your eyes. “My friend is here. She’s most certainly not sober and I’ve come to pick her up. That’s it. Do you think I want to be here, among these drunk, perverted jocks?”

He turns around, stretching his neck, his eyes darting through the crowd, inhibited by alcohol, smelling like cheap beer and weed. The moment his eyes bore into yours, though, it’s terrifying; it’s a rustled reminder of Seokjin’s wedding Jimin, and you don’t like it. You loathe it. You dread it.

“Maybe only some of us.”

He tips his head, lips curving into a timid, small smile, and you tear your gaze from his lips in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, keep dreaming of it. I just want my friend back.” You point your chin towards the amalgam of drunk party animals, “I’ll leave you to your immensely interesting activities, then.”

“What if,” he begins, “You don’t. Or—even better scenario, you leave with me.”

“Best case scenario, I leave with my friend. You stay here.”

“What’s the worst-case scenario, then?”

You cock a brow at him, crossing your arms on your chest. “I leave with my friend, you stay here. Sometime before me leaving, you’re punched. Or kicked. I don’t know. There’s a high chance I’ll throw a drink on you.”

“That implies you’ll be here long enough to grab a drink, doesn’t it? And you don’t have to ruin my shirt to get me naked, babe. Just ask nicely.”

You huff, and you’re mildly tempted to shove him against a wall. Or ruin him. Not in the funny way. More like the high and dry way, the one he knows so well. “I changed my mind, I’ll kick you.”

“Ask nicely?” His teasing tone makes your cheeks flush, and you hope the shitplace with subdued lightening can cover it. His expression shifts into an arrogant one, full smirk and little dimples out, so your cute guess is that he can see. He sees his effect on you, albeit completely unwanted and full of hatred from your side, and he enjoys it. Actually lulls in it, letting out a small laugh which, in turn, makes his eyes turn into crescents, all warm and cute—all things he’s not. All things you know he’s not.

“Ask nicely,” you repeat, rolling the words on your tongue, “Okay, babe. Let’s do this, babe. What do you want from me, babe?”

“Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe the answer is you?”

“Yes, actually,” you sigh, fingers brushing his neck, face comically close to his perfect, chiselled one, “That’s exactly what I thought when you stopped fingering me.”

“Right,” Jimin has the audacity to smile, craning his neck as if to close the distance between you in order to meet you for a kiss, “I’m a man of word, thought. You should be impressed.”

“I’m pretty sure the only thing that’s impressed is your face under the orgasm denial definition. Google it, babe, I guarantee you the meaning comes with your name and a brilliant review of one star.”

“Unlike you.” He licks his lips, eyes on your pretty pink ones, smeared with venom, “You’re not coming.” He explains, to further ignite your rage.

“And whose fault is that, babe?”

Jimin nuzzles into your neck, cupping your other cheek with his rough palm, and his thumb stills on your throat, right where your breath is stuck. He adds pressure on it, lips fondling your burning skin, his usual smirk plastered on them.

“Let me make it up to you.”

“You’re not fucking me,” you spit back, mouth now millimetres away from his, gently inviting you to kiss it, and cherish it, and biting it until you’re satisfied with the hot result.

“I’ll eat you out? Until you come.” He hums. “You’ll come.”

His voice is a mere strangled sound, wanting and dripping with need, and you snap out of it with a small smile.

“Nice offer,” your smile is wicked as you scrape his nape with a feathery touch, the slow movement rousing a flutter in your lower belly. “But get in line, babe.”

His shell-shocked face is the last thing you see before you fulfil the let’s rescue Seulgi! party.

 (“Why do you smell like softener?” Seulgi sniffs you, arms looped loosely around your neck, eyes completely shut down. It’s a nice sight, all things considered. You’re no angel, no saint, no perfect person, but you’re a nice friend, and that’s probably the most Seokjin trait you recognize in yourself. It’s your shared apartment, and it’s past 3 am and you’re the one good friend who keeps her promises. “It’s strawberry vodka, you heathen.”)

 The line turns out to be a real line, queue line, let’s get this coffee line, which, well. How can one word it, how can one phrase it fully catching the irony of it all, the distinctive je ne sais quoi of life without—

“Nice to see you here.”

It’s the perfect set for a rom-com, you notice, taking in the warm scenery around you. What else can one dream of, right? The campus coffee shop, the campus hot not-really-but-also-kinda fuckboy Jimin, partial jock to give him credit, full time attractive idiot with a tendency for orgasm denial. Really.

“What are the chances?” You exhale, voice devoid of emotions. For the sake of your parents’ integrity, you suppose, because they raised no impolite woman, of course, you turn around to face the angel-like human being, black hair partially covering his forehead, little dimples on full display. That’s—that is lack of integrity, or indecency or au-fucking-dacity. It might as well be a mix of the above-mentioned possibilities, all fitting and nurturing you because he’s gorgeous. He’s handsome. Jimin’s the most attractive human being you’ve ever seen in your life, and it’s not fair.

(Beside the fact that you’ve lived with Kim Seokjin, for fuck’s sake)

He pokes his own cheek, and you bask into the otherworldly scenario that takes place right in front of your caffeine deprived eyes. It’s a sight for sore, soft eyes, and it’s the end of the world as you know it, because it’s morning, too early to properly function like a normal human being, but there he is. There he is, Jimin, channelling his inner boyfriend material aura, oozing off boyfriend smell, nice, fresh, aftershave smell, rocking a stupid sweater and the messiest black mop of hair.

It’s honestly a tragedy, and you won’t stand for it. You will make a move—

“You’re squinting your eyes, like, real tight. Are you alright?”

Just ogling you, your drowsy mind offers, the fucking cheater.

“Yeah,” you reply, swallowing a lump in your dry throat, “Just need coffee. A latte. Anything.”

You move forward in the queue, and as you blink you realize it’s your turn, until it’s not anymore. Jimin carefully and gently moves you out of the way, brushing with the softest touch your side.

“A latte and an iced americano, please.”

The sweetened order for two turns into a hushed thank you, a tipped smile, a flutter of you heart. It’s drinks still half full, his curious gaze darting on your lips, your defences down. It’s unfair, because in a hot second all this pent-up tension shifts into a light, chaste kiss, your back pressed against the coffee shop’s restroom; your chest heaves under his tantalizing make-out session with your neck, followed by his frantic lips pressing on yours, his tongue licking lazily into your mouth, a gasp easing its way out of your warm and eager mouth. It’s a hot-blooded supercut, each frame announced by a starving moan, a content sigh, and, before you realise it, you’re on your bed, Jimin hovering on top of you.

It’s Saturday morning, you hum to yourself, fingers sliding into his hair, all’s in check. There’s a warm body slumped on yours, his tongue swerving on your lower lip and his hips shyly bucking between your open legs. Your panties are drenched, you can feel his hard on through the jeans and, really, all’s in check.

He nudges your nose with his. “Lemme eat you out.”

The answer lies sitting on the tip of your tongue, right next to an obnoxious remark that you hope will rile him up enough for him to rip your underwear, which you definitely won’t complain about. However, the words don’t come out, they slur in your craving mouth the second he gets up and shoves you toward the end of your unmade bed, spreading your naked legs open with his calloused palms.

“Nice skirt,” he comments, voice a rasp, eyeing the drenched, lilac underwear, skirt at this point gone up to cover your stomach. “I just want…”

He shuffles closer, enough for you to feel his hot breath on your core, and that’s when Jimin pulls the panties on a side, teasing you with little licks to your entrance. You’re responsive, too eager for anything to quench your thirst that you sigh happily at the barest of actions, gripping strands of his hair. Jimin chuckles, engulfing the throbbing clit in his mouth in one go and drawing desperate moans out of your cute, devilish mouth.

“Fuckboy move,” you emit, voice cracking at the pressure of his warm mouth, “Oh, oh. Fuck…”

He replies flattening his tongue on your core, then licking and lapping against your dripping folds. Jimin positively glows at the cries you let out, face slobbering with your arousal while driving you insane, fucking with his tongue like his life depended on it. It’s almost a spiritual experience, a crescendo of wails and sobs, his face drown in your pussy and his tongue paying reverence to your approaching orgasm. He can feel it in the way you writhe, in his hand splaying over your stomach, keeping you still while he eats you religiously, forehead beaded with sweat.

You come with a trembling hand in his hair, the other flicking your bare nipple, back slightly arched and a lewd mewl; Jimin takes in the way your body trembles, your breath all staggered because of him, and the sight alone is enough for him to cum in his pants with a grunt, completely untouched.

The second time it happens is, coincidentally, the first time Jimin knows there’s no turning back from this.

/

Complicated is a big word when it comes to relationship, you reckon, emitting something akin to a gasp, truly soap operas worthy material, but, for the first time in your life, you decide to name it this way.

Being with Jimin is… complicated, for starters. Especially because you’re not with Jimin, in the strict, relationship-wise meaning. He knows your favourite colour (“Why the fuck you only own purple underwear?” “It’s lilac, dick, watch your mouth.” “Watch your own mouth, babe. You’re the one on your knees.”), your favourite food (“But you like having your mouth stuffed with my cock, honey.” You sigh, blushing. “First of all, I’m talking about real food. That amazing steak kind of food—“

“I’ll show you real meat, babe.”

“Gross. Gross. How can I cancel the last five seconds of my life?”

“Come here, Jared, nineteen,” he half smiles, tilting his head, “I’ll get us fries.”), your favourite movie (“We can’t get each other off every time your ugly paper cap fits—oh,” you suck in a breath, Jimin flicking his tongue on your turgid nipple, “oh, god, don’t stop.”), your best friend’s name (“I condone you dicking her so good she sometimes cries, you know, I just don’t when I’m in the room next to hers and all I can hear is my best friend trying to formulate a single coherent word but failing because you’re pounding her mercilessly into the mattress.” Jimin chuckles, grabbing his jacket before holding the doorknob. “She begged, Seulgi.”)—so what? It’s not like you sat down and decided not to ask each other dumb questions, so that you could find out in the funny, kinky way. For fuck’s sake, you didn’t even decide on anything, didn’t even talk about talking, because the relationship related shit didn’t even cross your mind.

It’s even quite fucking hard for it to cross it, because half the time you’re together you’re either both naked – except for the time he pleaded for the tartan mini to stay – or stuffing your mouth with food—because, if there’s something you’ve learned after one too many hook-ups with him is that this kind of sex requires strength. Like, actual, physical strength, if we’re not talking about the this test is draining me please fuck me until I can’t walk sex. Which, yeah, 10/10 would recommend. That was the day Seulgi decided to invest in ear plugs while muttering capitalism, here I come.

You also came.

Funnily enough, guess who also came. Not in the funny, kinky way. Think about the grossest thing, imagine the beyond the bounds of possibility, sprinkle it with Jimin earnestly shoving his dick down your throat, stir it with a poor Taehyung brushing his teeth next to the both of you, a step away from the shower, and serve it on the most expensive plate in the kitchen, a recipe not approved by Kim Seokjin.

Yeah, you mentally roll your eyes, licking your lips clean, at eye-level with your sorta enemy with benefits’ pretty dick: the married brother of yours, former fratboy, taller than your current will to live.

In hindsight, maybe it is Seokjin’s fault. Once you’re married, you’re supposed to be committed to the cause, and sometimes, an angry little crumb in you finds the audacity to speak, the cause is made up of your four walls: ergo home, ergo your married life, miles away from the absurdity that once filled his university days. You’re being hypocritical, you realize, skin wet, body trembling. In the simplest, most hedonistic terms, you’re done with the chaos in this fraternity and just wished that hooking up was easier. It’s more than a stolen orgasm, a random spur of pleasure and free de-stresser; it’s also something not quite like art but just as peculiar. Sex with Jimin is more than nice, more than a fast rummage of clothes on the floor and panties teared, or condoms stuffed in every single pocket of his jacket.

It should also be noticed that it’s been one hell of a stressful week, okay, which means that it’s one of those times you seek for naked intimacy, in its least literal meaning. You’re looking for something sure, something silent, something earnest. Jimin gives you that in the simplest of forms, in the easiest of ways. It’s not fair for your brother to come unannounced and burst into the house with his adorable laugh and love for his own brothers. Way to ruin the moment, bro.

Jimin blinks attentively when Taehyung laughs, clapping his hands all happy and following the elder’s voice outside the bathroom.

“I’m getting you my clothes.”

“Wait, what?”

His lips part just enough for his tongue to wet them, and your eyes follow in silence the gesture.

“I mean,” he starts, grabbing a towel, “You either come out with me from this bathroom or you don’t.”

He’s concise, yet harsh, words uttered with those soft lips yet are just as hot as a slap in your face. He’s telling the truth, but you soon find out you don’t really like it.

There’s something abrupt and severe in those chosen words, so well picked out because they’re not meant to hurt, but at the same time they’re so worrying. So terrible, practically as hard as a punch in your guts.

You either come out of the bathroom with him — you had been blowing minutes before, hadn’t you? Quite the intimacy, huh? — or you don’t. You stay behind. Different rooms, a whole door to separate you while he’s out with the people he cares about.

Seems legit, but. It’s unfair. You know Jimin isn’t choosing for you, but it’s obvious he’s inclined towards an option between the two, and you’re terrified to discover whether it’s his own desire pushing or what he thinks you want.

You, instead, push the thought aside when you nod, taking the towel from his hands and covering your body from this terrific half hook-up.

Because that’s what it is—that’s what you are.

It dawns upon you like a cold breeze hitting your face in full December, suddenly, and that’s when you realize winter is near. In your mind, this hooking up scenario seemed nicer. Sounded softer, a cute bubble moving slowly in the air.

But now—well, now the bubble has burst, and it feels wrong, and this unexpected wrong doesn’t feel right in your chest, and that’s the story of how you leave the house escaping from his window, in his clothes, with vision blurred by hot, stupid, idiotic tears.

/

Seulgi is the first one to notice, and, obviously, the first one to speak.

“Something’s been bothering you,” she says, head tilted in a way that’s supposed to be emphatic and worried but comes off as stiff and terrified. “Care to share?”

It’s just a wholesome amount of terrifying stuff, isn’t it? First the shower incident, now Seulgi’s ways not working around you anymore. What’s next? Avoiding Jimin for a whole week? Blocking his number? Losing the smart and beautiful title to your obnoxious brother?

You wouldn’t be surprised, really. Shit like this always happens at the same fucking time.

“It’s nothing. A stressful couple days, maybe? Or maybe I’m getting sick. There’s a guy always coughing during Physics. Maybe it’s his fault, who knows.”

Seulgi unlocks her phone, an unreadable gaze studying you. She gives up a second later, though, her weak maybe reaching your ears when you’ve already looked down on your book.

One simply cannot be annoyed because of a half hook up. Christ. You deserve better than that. You have some dignity left, tainted by everything that’s not Jimin and his harsh, stupid words.

So, your mind offers, while you squint your eyes, I suppose there’s nothing else you could do about it.

Nothing else besides acknowledging it and moving on.

Sounds like a plan. A fireproof plan, an escape plan, something detailed and precise. Planned to work out smoothly; planned to be executed without pain or mistakes.

/

It’s seven sharp when he knocks, takeout in his left hand, eyes bulging because it’s fucking freezing outside.

“It’s fucking freezing, what the fuck.” He says out loud, indeed. What he receives as an answer is the sound of your tongue clicking, the biggest amount of interest you’ve shown towards him the whole week. He would finally exhale, weren’t it for the fact that this is still pretty traumatic, because if there’s something he’s learned while orbiting around you, is that you’re constantly awake and aware of your surroundings. Your body language says that you pay attention to him, or Seulgi, or whoever you’re talking to. You follow the guy with your eyes, and you listen and nod in all the right places during a conversation, and you search for his dark gaze when he’s fucking you in the dimly lit bedroom, the bed creaking under your sweaty sex making. He’s not admitting it, he never will, and he’ll pretty much deny this to everyone who will ask but: there’s something hot about it. Something burning with the way your body reacts to him, when your eyes follow his actions, while your voice falters when he fucks you right, and it somehow pushes him to the edge every time. It’s the equivalent of Jungkook getting a boner in the gym while catching girls and boys drooling at him, except he’s talking about you and your crazy moans, your magic aura.

And yes, okay, fucking blame him, the realization alone made him jerk off in his room like a teen, twice, yesterday. That’s a fact. That’s barely a fact, alright? This is a truth; a statement soon forgot by the knowers. Obviously.

You look spent, he thinks, if he had to choose a word, dared by some arrogant deity to define the current mess you were. He glances at your barely done ponytail, at the tiredness written all over your face. He takes in your baggy sweater, your quiet beauty, knowing this is gonna be one of those nights you take a step back.

He doesn’t say anything though, instead he brushes the hair on your forehead, not even making contact with your skin.

You grab the bag from his hands, shivering instantly and hoping he doesn’t read the signs. They’re—they’re there, you know, you’re collecting them slowly, one after another, grabbing one and looking cautiously for the following one, hoping it’s not there. Hoping it doesn’t exist.

You exhale a sigh, disguising it as cough, a noise, something distracting Jimin from his silent staring, which is, funnily enough, loud and cacophonic.

“Hungry,” you state, the single word weighting more because of the soft pout on your lips. Jimin hates that he knows what it means, that it’s gonna be just the two of you this time, no chill whatsoever, no bodies touching and melting against each-other. He’s not complaining, what the fuck, he’s not an idiot. He’s not even mad, he’s just—accepting, on a level. This is the point of no return, he guesses, following you on the couch and admiring the laptop’s screen reflected on your face.

He doesn’t say anything when you search for Brooklyn 99 on Netflix, because he’d say everything, otherwise. He’d mumble something along the lines of this feels real, we could do this all the time, or, worst of all: I like this. I like you.

So, in order: he tugs at your sleeves and scoots you closer to him, and you say absolutely nothing at the gesture. He’s ecstatic on the inside, partially terrified, mostly delusional. He pretends he’s something more when you lean on him, the slightest pressure of your head on his shoulder. He cares zero fucks about the show when he’s breathing your scent in and feels how warm you are and shuts his eyelids down when he pictures you adoring him. Liking him. Liking him a whole lot more—

He’s fucked, he realises, hours later, when you doze off and he has to carry you to bed, something you claim of loathing, which—what on earth. It’s an unfathomable absurdity, that’s what it is.

“You can stay.”

His voice falters. “What?”

You cough, eyes closed as you speak sinful words: “The night, I mean. It’s fucking freezing outside.”

His lips form a small o, and it’s hot all of a sudden. “Alright,” he manages, staring at you on your bed, hands fidgety and heartbeat accelerated for some reason, “Make space for me. Hey, fucker. I’m serious. Let me in.”

You do.

(to be continued. ily)

[smol-and-grumpy]

EUPHORIA - Chapter 24

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.

Chapter Warning: NSFW, flangst

WC: 2824

A/N: This chapter fills my ‘voice kink’ square for @spnkinkbingo.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

This series is complete on Patreon!

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

He’s pissed and overly grumpy. It’s too fucking early to be dealing with bullshit. But he’s also grumpy because he had to see Y/N off.

Walking around the corner, Cas’ notices him and nods. 

“Again?” Dean asks, sees them washing down the red paint. It looks bloody and it smells awful. It almost made him nauseous.

“Yeah,” Cas sighs, “It’s nothing I couldn’t deal with, so I didn’t feel the need to call you.”

“That’s okay,” Dean crosses his arms over his chest, watches the paint come off the walls before he turns to Cas, “Security footage?”

“We got it,” Cas says, but he doesn’t look happy about it so Dean already knows that it’s probably not even worth mentioning, “The guy wore a Vendetta mask and was dressed in black.”

“Great,” Dean breathes out, his hand goes up to rub at his forehead. There’s a puddle of paint running down the pavement towards him, and he takes a step to the side.

It’s moments like these that Dean wants to give up completely. That he wants to just sell the whole fucking thing and go do something else, being a fucking accountant for the firm Sam’s working in or just something that’s less stressful. Somewhere where he has to deal with less hate, maybe. Less jealousy. 

He places a hand on Cas’ shoulder, “You go home and get some shut eye. I’ll see you for the briefing later,” 

“‘K,” Cas answers and turns to walk away. Looking back, he calls out to Dean, “Balth is waiting in your office!”

Dean groans and rolls his eyes at that.

Apparently, he can’t catch a fucking break around here.

*

Dean walks into his office and sees Balthazar sitting on the couch. The man’s busy working on his laptop. A scent of coffee lingers in the air. He must have brought a cup with him because Dean doesn’t have a coffee machine in his office. What he has, though, is a fucking bar and he wonders if it would be too soon to pour himself a couple of fingers? It’s probably five o’clock somewhere , right? 

Even though his mouth waters at the thought of the burning liquid filling his throat and clouding his head, Dean abandons the thought quite quickly. She doesn’t like him to drink. It has a lot to do with how she grew up and Dean respects that, has toned it down since Y/N came back into his life, and he wants to keep that up.

“Balth,” Dean greets the man and walks over to his desk, sits down with a loud grunt, “What can I do for you?”

“How’s your hand?”

“Good.” Dean nods and holds it up, takes a look at it himself.

It’s bandaged. Y/N was telling him that he should let her do it or she’ll get angry at him. He smirks at the memory. He would have loved to say that she could get mad all she wants, because he likes how cute she looks when she’s mad, but he thinks that would have been a bad move on his part, so he just held still while she sat on his lap and bandaged his hand. The lap sitting was a deal he negotiated because he said that he wouldn’t let her if she wouldn’t sit on his lap. She rolled her eyes but sat down and it’s crazy how his lap was made for her to sit on.

Balthazar clears his throat before he closes his laptop, and Dean is catapulted back to reality. Back to an annoying work day. He thinks maybe he should take a break, ask her if she’s game to go on a road trip. Just the two of them, driving where the road takes them with no clear destination. Dean doesn’t think he needs one with her.

“I’ve stayed with Cole after you left.” Balthazar says while he places his laptop back into its bag.

“And?” Dean frowns.

“He won’t press charges,”

Dean snorts, “Yeah, because we have the upper hand.”

It’s no surprise. Dean knew that he wouldn’t. If he would, he’d see his ass in jail and Dean doubts that Cole would survive a day in there. All Dean wanted was to make a statement and he thinks that he was pretty clear about what the statement entailed.

“Still, you should be more careful with breaking bones.” Balthazar gets up from the couch and walks over to the chair across from Dean. He doesn’t sit down, though, only braces his hands on it, leaning in a little.

“He was touching what’s fucking mine, Balth. What do you want me to do?” Dean shouts out and immediately regrets his outburst because it hurt his own ears. He pinches the bridge of his nose. It’s too fucking early. 

When Dean calms down a little, he asks, “So, you had your eyes on him? He wasn’t anywhere near the club?”

“Nope, I drove him to the ER and he underwent surgery to correct his fucking jaw that you broke. He’ll stay there for the next two days, at least.”

“Good,” Dean nods. It’s not exactly good when it comes to the club, though, because Cole’s out of the picture, “Can you get more people on board? I want someone watching the club after closing. It’s a tiny window of time, three, maybe four hours.”

Balthazar nods, “I can do that.”

*

After Balthazar left, Dean decided to start up his computer since he hasn’t checked his emails for a couple of days now. He deliberately doesn’t have his work emails on his phone. It’s his private property and he made it clear from the beginning that he’s separating work and private life.

Dean clicks through the emails. There are some new member sign ups that he needs to go through. Some harmless threats which he usually bins right away. But then there are some mails that are more worrying as well.

He clicks on the first one with the title I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST NIGHT . The email opens up to pictures of the altercation in front of Y/N’s office building. Dean can see that it was shot from across the street. Maybe from a parked car. He immediately forwards the pictures to Balthazar. 

There are more emails. Without pictures though, just words. Hurtful ones. 

  I WILL TAKE YOU AND YOUR CLUB DOWN

  YOU ARE A FUCKING DISGUSTING HUMAN BEING

  SHAME ON YOU

  YOUR CLUB WILL BE CLOSED. MARK MY WORDS

  It’s really nothing new. He gets those threats quite a lot and he always makes sure to block the sender but they keep making new email accounts and so he’ll keep deleting and blocking them. Dean can’t win in this, but neither can they, so at least there’s that.

*

Later in the day, while Dean’s briefing his employees, his phone vibrates in his pocket. He fishes it out, thinks it’s Balthazar calling him about new developments. The man had called earlier already, only to suggest for Dean to get a fucking bodyguard but Dean really doesn’t know about that. He just thinks it’s a waste of money. Only when Balth mentioned that Y/N’s safety might be in danger too, does Dean at least agree to consider it.

Dean stops his speech to look at the caller ID, has to suppress his smirk while he holds up his index finger, “I gotta take this one, Cas?” 

“Yeah,” The other man jumps in, grins himself because he knows, and Dean actually wants to wipe that smile from Cas’ face but he gotta hurry if he wants to take it before she hangs up on him.

Dean turns around, picks it up, smiles like an idiot because apparently, he lost the ability to control his fucking face, “Hey,” Dean walks up the stairs and disappears into the VIP room for some privacy.

“I’m sorry, am I interrupting? You must be busy.” 

It sounds like she’s pouting, Dean bites back a chuckle, “No, it’s okay, you never interrupt. How’s the workshop going?”

He tries to sound cheerful, doesn’t want to tell her about the things that happened yet. There’s no need for her to worry, really. 

“Ugh, boring,” Y/N sighs, and adds, “I have a short break before I have to go for the mandatory dinner.”

Dean flips his wrist, sees that it’s past 5pm. He grins, “You wanna spice things up at the dinner?”

“Dean,”

“What?” He chuckles.

“Well,” Her voice is almost whiny as she considers his words, “Yeah?”

“That’s my girl,” Dean smiles, “Jesus, I’m getting all excited myself.”

Cas appears in the room and Dean nods at him, “Baby, I gotta go, I need to finish something here,”

“Okay,” It sounds like she’s pouting and god, Dean feels bad for making her feel like he doesn’t have time for her or that he doesn’t care when all he’s doing is to make fucking time. But he guesses she’ll understand once they see each other. 

“Wear it and let me know when you’re going to dinner, alright?”

“Yeah,” She sighs, “Miss you.” 

Dean sighs, closes his eyes briefly, his heart flutters at those words. He smiles at the feeling, “I miss you, too.”

Y/N runs up to her room right after dinner, keys in her hand and leans back against the closed door as soon as she’s inside. She’s dripping wet from that vibe but she didn’t come yet. She doesn’t know how Dean does it but he always managed to stop when she’s about to come, making her whine out audibly once, and when Charlie, her friend from college who sat next to her asked what was wrong, she just said that she liked the food very much. 

God, it was so embarrassing!

She thinks about calling him but he’s probably busy working as it’s already past 10pm and the club is at its peak right about now. 

Taking off her shoes, she walks to the bathroom to clean her face and she brushes her teeth,  walking out into the bedroom shortly after. She quickly gets out of her dress and slips out of her panties that are completely soaked. 

The device is still inside of her and clear enough, it starts to buzz again, making her shriek out. She swears if he won’t let her come again—

—her phone rings.

Letting herself fall onto the bed, still in only her bra and nothing else — except for the vibrator in her pussy — she grabs at her clutch that she left there before she walked to the bathroom. 

  Dean.

  The vibrator still buzzes lightly inside of her and she picks up, has to gnaw on her bottom lip to suppress the moan.

“You are the worst!” It blurts out of her as soon as she swipes her thumb across the screen.

“Wait, what?” He’s laughing loudly.

“Yeah,” She pouts and moves up the bed, rests her back against the headboard while she spreads her legs and enjoys the buzzing between her thighs, “You turn me on and then you stop, and I was so close to coming.”

“Awe, poor baby,” Dean says in his mumbling voice and it sounds so fucking sexy, “Are you still turned on?”

“Yeah,” She mutters under her breath, “Please, you have to let me come.” 

“I don’t know,” He chuckles, “Have you been good, Y/N?”

Oh my god , he’s pulling that card, isn’t he? 

“I have. Please?” She nods and whines, teeth sinking into her bottom lip when she feels the buzzing getting stronger, moaning out shamelessly. 

“Christ, you sound so fucking sexy,” 

She can hear him growl on the other end. 

“No, you do,” There’s another increase of vibration and god, it makes her arch her back, as a shrieking sound rolls off her tongue. 

“I do? I don’t think so, sweetheart. I’m getting hard just hearing you moan.”

“It— ah— it’s your v—voice, Dean.”

“My voice? What’s with my voice, baby?” 

And it’s like he’s taunting her because it rolls deep, smooth like fucking honey and it feels like he’s wrapping her up in the warm sound. He increases the vibrations, and she didn’t know it could go further up but it does. One of her hands goes to her tit, kneads at it while she has a tight grip around her phone with the other. 

“Ah— it’s.. Fuck— it’s so deep and gravelly and oh god— it’s sexy,” 

“Yeah?” He chuckles, “Bet you’re so wet, ain’tcha, baby? You always are so wet for me. It’s the fucking best thing. Especially when you gush and come around my cock, Jesus—”

His breathing is ragged, he’s turned on too. 

Good , she thinks. At least she’s not the only one. 

“My panties were soaked. I took them off and now I’m on my bed in only my bra,” She manages to say, tongue darts out to wet her lips, “Wish you were here.” 

“I wish I was there too. Wish I could kiss you. I’d be right between your thighs right now, eating you out like you’re the sweetest thing, because you fucking are,” It comes out a little strained, “Does me telling you these thing turn you on, huh?”

“Yeah,” She chokes out a moan, “You could read me the goddamn phone book and it would turn me on, Dean.”

“Christ, I’m just imagining you right now, all spread out and wet,” There’s a low growl before he speaks again, “Can you do me a favor, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” 

“Use your words, sweetheart,” His voice is more stern. Doesn’t make it less sexy, though.

“Yes,” 

“Good girl,” 

God the praise . Y/N has to press her thighs together, already so fucking close. 

Dean goes on, “Take off your bra for me, baby. Take your thumb and forefinger, give them a firm tug for me, bet your nipples are sensitive, huh? I wanna hear you.”

She sits up to unclasp her bra before she throws it carelessly into the room. Leaning back again, her right hand goes to her left nipple, tugs hard and moans out in pained pleasure. 

“Good girl,” He coos, “Such a fucking good girl,” 

The vibration increases again and she thinks that’s the maximum it can go. Hopes it is, because she’s right there, dancing dangerously on the edge.

“Dean, please, I’m—”

“—I got you, baby,” He breathes out a soft chuckle, “Come, you can come, now. Come for me, okay? I wanna hear you come for me.” His whispering low, and the words paired with his voice, plus the added buzzing in her cunt was enough to tip her over.

Oh god. His voice is really out of his world. She comes with a squeal. His name rolls off her tongue as she squeezes her eyes shut and her legs start to tremble. Her hips buck up and she doubles over and has to roll herself into a fetal position on the bed.

There’s a ringing in her ear from the orgasm and she feels the vibration getting softer until it’s completely gone. Dean’s voice is faint in her ear through the phone.

Good girl. My fucking good girl.

She swallows hard, her eyes are still closed. When Y/N comes back to her senses, she starts to giggle and then she hears it. The knock at her door. 

“What’s so funny?” Dean asks as she sits up straight, startled from the knocking.

“Oh my god, someone just knocked at my door.” She says, her heart’s still pounding fast.

“Go on, open it.” 

“No, who would knock at this time of night? I’m sure they just have the wrong room.” She doesn’t know if she’s trying to talk to him or talk herself out of her anxiety of the realization that someone came knocking at her door late at night.

“Maybe it’s room service?” 

“Dean, I just came from dinner, I didn’t order anything!”

“Jesus Christ, I didn’t think it would be this hard!” Dean growls and she might be hearing things because she hears the deep growl outside of her door? He sighs then, “Baby, I really think you should open up.”

“Oh my god, you didn’t... Dean, no.” She scrambles off the bed, and somehow she doesn’t even care if she’s fucking naked. 

“Dean, yes!” He chuckles lightly, “Come on, I’m standing in the hallway with a visible boner and I think if someone sees it, they’ll call the cops.”

She hangs up and drops the phone onto the bed as she makes her way to the door, opens it up wide to see Dean smiling at her.

Chapter 25

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

[njeancastro316]

The Night we met ...Part 2

This needs a title and I need help.

Warnings: Swearing and a tease spoon of violent behavior. New characters.

Elijah x female reader

Bolds are thoughts

Like, comment or reblog 🤗😘

English not my first language 😳

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days had gone by since he met her. He should’ve gone after her as she made her swift exit. He wanted to but something inside him stopped him, ‘maybe it was for the best’ he thought biting his lower lip. Elijah had left the bar not long after when he stepped on something with his shoe, he had broken a card . Looking down to investigate he smiled widely. He bent to take the item , in his hand was Y/N ID badge from the hospital she must have dropped it on her way out. Apparently he had broken what held it together. At first he didn’t know what to make of it, upon closer inspection it looked like a vertebrae with a bow and a happy face. ‘Adorable just like her’, he smiled again and after carefully wrapping it on his handkerchief he placed the little treasure on his suit pocket . He went by the hospital to find her but she was off duty and although he could’ve compelled anyone to tell him when she was going to be back he found himself not wanting to. He would go to the hospital and try his luck again today , if fate wanted him to meet her then so be it, if not he would not pursue her anymore. ‘I can’t wait to see you again little one’ he thought as he put on his suit jacket and headed towards his Bentley.

————————-

At the hospital...Y/N was preparing her next surgey after two days of total rest , isolation,food and Netflix with her long time friend and fellow nurse Jess.

“So let me get this straight you went to a bar for a drink , you met a guy that possibly showed real interest in you and you freaking left him!!??? Jess was livid.

“Well I said goodbye to him, I’ll be regret my decision for the next 6 months so prepare yourself” Y/N lowered her head in shame.

“I outta kick your ass , so you know what this means , no let me rephrase that, what it would’ve meant, a chance for you to forget and be over that dickwad Stephen and you fucking ran from it like a bat out of hell” Jess shouted flustered.

‘Yeah I suck’

“I am over him Jess , I don’t need anyone”Y/N pouted.

‘God I am over that asshole for good, yes I am say it again as many times until it sticks’she thought.

“Yeah right and I’m Oprah” her friend massaged her temples clearly frustrated “Y/N you are gorgeous, not to mention the sweetest human being I’ve ever known and you deserve so much better than that asshole who cheated on you with a surgery resident”.

“If a chance comes to you , bitch you take it , I’m not saying fuck him right away” earning a incredulous look from Y/N “Give it a day or two”Jess winked. “I’m just saying you deserve a good man in your life , one that loves you and cherishes the treasure that you really are”.

“You think I’m worthy of that” Y/N whispered her eyes shining with tears.

“Of course you are , so when are you going back to the bar”? .

“Jess I can’t ... I mean , I’d be so embarrassed besides what if he’s not there”

“And what if he is”Jess countered.

“Then you know me I’ll grow mute probably do something that I will regret later point being I’ll mess it up” Y/N shrugged her shoulders.

“You are giving up ! I’m going to kill you”Jess placed her hands on YN neck to choke her making her scream.

“Your hands are freezing, you lunatic stop!! , You can kill me later”. Y/N pushed Jess away laughing.

“Miss Y/L/N” came from one of the surgeons .

“Dr. Cox! , Is there something you need sir”?

“There is someone at the front desk asking for you” . He said

“What?! Who?” She and Jess exchanged looks.

“He didnt give me a name he just asked for you” . He said leaving before she could ask anything else .

“What do I do ? What do I do”???!!! Y/N trembled.

‘Oh my god...oh my god , Could it be him ? OH MY GOD!!

“Stop it ,don’t make me slap the crap out of you Y/N , now relax and stand up straight let me look at your make up , what flavor on the lip gloss ?” Jess eyed her friend . “Strawberries”Y/N answered.

“Good you can never go wrong with strawberries .Breath check”

“Nonsense Jess my breath is fin”...

“Breath check now”!! Jess interrupted making Y/N puffed her breath . “Mmm fruity , what is that ?

“Trident tropical twist gum” earning a thumbs up from her friend.

“Hair is a bit wild but its ok”Jess tried to tamed her friends unruly wavy locks.  “You are perfect ,now go get him”Jess encouraged followed by a slap in Y/N behind.

“Jess!! That hurt!”

“Oh you love it”! She teased.

Y/N walked towards the front desk of the OR slowly her heart was like a hummingbird beating so fast she thought it might fly out of her chest.

‘Please God don’t let me make a fool out of myself’ as she neared the desk she saw Stephen.

‘Oh fuck me’she dreaded ‘What is HE doing here’? Y/N went passed him ignoring him completely.

“Hey Bae”Stephen called “Y/N! ,What are you doing ?, Did you leave your contacts at home ? I’m right here”

Y/N closed her eyes and let out a big sigh. ‘Of course it has to be him and not Elijah ,its like literally the heavens open and say Fuck you Y/N’ She took a deep breath and turned to face Stephen.

“Dr .Burks can I help you with anything”? Y/N said annoyed.

“Aww come on bae don’t be like that , I missed you . Are you busy tonight ? Do you want me to swing by your place and you know” ... his eyebrows moved up and down suggesting the obvious.

“This is not the time nor the place for this Stephen” she pulled him into a big hallway away from the managers and people that ran the OR avoiding their questioning looks.

“Y/N please when are you going to grow up , I made a little mistake , you know I love you , there is no one but you lets kiss and make up” he gave her his sexy smile one that she used to love .

‘I’m about blow the fuck up’ anger surged through her body.

“How dare you?! Stephen seriously!!, no one but me?! Did you told the same crap to that poor naive resident before you plowed her into your bed . You have some balls after two months of dumping me for her. Well not this time I’m not going to fall for this again, its over Dr. Burks ... we are over.” Y/N turned to walk away but Stephen was faster he grabbed her by her wrist and tightened his hold.

“No we are not over until I say we are over. Stephen smiled at her as if not to cause a scene.

“Let go , you are hurting me ...please !! Stephen you are hurting me” she clenched her jaw her wrist felt like it was going to shatter under his hold.

‘God please please , I need help’ she thought desperately.

“Is there a problem here”? a voice came from behind her. Y/N closed her eyes and smiled in relief she’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Elijah” Y/N turned pulling her hand away from Stephen. She walked towards Elijah stopping mere inches from him personal space be damned.

“Are you ok little one”? He asked softly surveying for signs of injury as she panted. He could hear her heart drumming on her chest . Her emotions were all over the place anger , fear , happiness and lust. Her cheeks were tinted pink. She was beautiful. He smirked.

Y/N could feel his breath on her and she searched his face for any indication that he was uncomfortable with her being this close.

“Y/N” Stephen called “Who’s this guy?, Y/N ... Y/N”! He repeated to deaf ears.

‘Sorry ... not fucking sorry’

Y/N closed the space between them grabbing Elijah by the back of his neck and pulling him into a fierce kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cliffhanger 😈 Im learning from the best 🦄 🤣😂

Girls I need a title , I can’t think of any 🤦‍♀️HELP

@hellotvshowtrash @elijahs-wife @drachentraum @nikmikaelsonswife @mikaelson-emma @elejahfanfic @eternityunicorn @dumble-daddy @svnkissedskies @soul-revoir @kaiiiiiiparkerismyhusband @lokis-favorite-follower @iirocioii

[moons-and-stars-and-shit]

OK NOW THAT I KNOW WHAT 🍰 MEANS UD LIKE ONE PLEASE!

Um my name is Emma I'm 5'10 with thick glasses and shoulder length brown hair (I'm also getting an undercut on the right side bc ya girl E D G Y) I'm awkwardly skinny, like a stick, ID PUT FLATTYKAWA TO SHAME 😭. And since I'm awkwardly skinny and have long limbs I crash into everything within a five mile radius. I'm a mess but I'm cute so it's ok.

I'm a hufflepuff, Taurus and an INFJ. I can be either really observant and understand why people act a certain way or do the tings they do, or completely oblivious. There is no in-between. I really like finding unique or weird things and love going to antique and thrift stores to find them. I'm really crafty and my head is always in the clouds with ideas for something I'm writting....which makes me a target for any kind of ball. I'm always getting hit in the head with balls, it's low key a meme at this point. I'm kind of awkward but I've been putting myself out there more often bc I don't want to regret all my time wasted being worried about what others think. I'm really nice and like to make people smile. I do nt have many friends (people are scary) but the ones I do I hold very dear to me and would fight for them till the ends of the earth. I can be kind of blunt sometimes and sometimes I don't get jokes but I mean well. And by mean well I mean I'm terrified of accidentally hurting people's feelings. I may be ✨soft✨ but I'm not a pushover and will call people out if needed. Around people I don't know well I'm pretty quiet but if you ask me about something I'm interested I could talk for hours upon hours. I can be pretty extra around my friends and have chaotic energy.

I love cute things and animals. I have these cats that I will NOT shut up about. I really like bright, kind of chaotic things

@pansexualproblemchild

Romantic Matchup

Semi Eita

How Y’all Met

Ok so Semi has a weird complex where he wants to be at least decent at EVERYTHING

So when someone pointed out that his serves could use some work

He just HAD to work on them

Unfortunately you being the ball magnet you are walked into the gym JUST as he served the ball

What happened next you may ask?

WHABAM

hit you right in the face

Apparently this particular serve was very powerful

Cuz sis you passed out 🤠

Now Semi was #panicking

So he picked you up bridal style and started walking you to the nurse

In the middle of this little journey you woke up

In his arms

Looking up at his beautiful face

Uhhhhh

ANYWAYS

He got you to the nurse

And turns out you were fine 😃

BUT

The nurse advised you not to be watched over for at least a couple of hours

And since semi felt super bad

He offered to watch you :)

Now in order to make this time less awkward

He asked you what you wanted to do to pass the time

To which you responded with....

✨ 🛍 THRIFTING 🛍 ✨

Ahh yes the art of shopping for cheap 😌

Now semi did not know what thrifting was

So it was your job to show him

You took him to one of your favorite thrift stores

Picked out a few outfits for him

And a few for yourself 😗

And held a mini fashion show!

Honestly semi was having the most fun he felt in a while

And after y’all picked out some clothes

You dragged him over to the nick nacks

And that’s when you found

These guys!

You decided to buy them, taking the smaller one for yourself

And giving semi the other one :)

It was to “mark your newly found friendship”

Yeah

That’s when semi fell in love with you

So when it was time to drop you off home

He decided not to waste the opportunity and asked you on a proper date

Y’all have been dating ever since ;)))

Favorite Things To Do Together

Ok honestly you got him REALLY into thrifting

It doesn’t Mayer if it’s clothes or just random items

He LOVES thrifting

Especially with you

Because you buy a shit ton of random little things

And they always remind him of you 😊

He also really likes to do crafts with you

AS OONG AS IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH A HOT GLUE GUN

He’s burned himself one to many times...

Random Hc

He would 100% get an undercut with you

Y’all can be edgy babes together 😌

He doesn’t allow you in the gym anymore 😀

If his spike was able to do some damage IMAGINE the damage Ushijimas could do

No hurt s/o on semis watch

And I just wanna end these random Hc with the fact that this man would spoil you 👀

You see something you really want at the thrift store

He buys it

Honestly you stopped paying for things all together since you’ve started dating him

Astrology

When Taurus and Scorpio come together in a love affair, their union is nothing if not intense, whether that’s in a positive or a negative way.

They are opposite Signs in the Zodiac, giving them a special, complex connection.

They can combine to make a whole, each partner’s strengths balancing the other’s weaknesses.

Their sexual attraction is likely to be off the charts!

Taurus and Scorpio have tons in common, but because their personalities are so powerful, they often swing between passionate love and passionate disagreement!

Taurus and Scorpio both have deep desires, Taurus for possessions and Scorpio for power.

They’re both concerned with wealth and resources, and they’re both intensely passionate about all sorts of things.

Taurus is a bit more self-focused than Scorpio, who is more concerned with their lover and immediate family.

Both of these Signs have a great, deep-rooted need for security in a relationship, but with slightly different focuses.

While Taurus prizes honesty and forthrightness and abhors infidelity, Scorpio loves to be mysterious.

A Scorpio’s need for security is more about the need to be constantly reassured that their emotional connection with their loved one is strong.

The good thing is, Taurus needs this reassurance too — and is also willing to provide it for their Scorpio lover.

Their powerful connection that can shine when obstacles to intimacy are cleared away.

When Scorpio realizes that Taurus is there for the long term and won’t create the misery that some Scorpios attract to their lives, this relationship can blossom.

Overall Aesthetic

ThriftCore

Songs-

More Than Friends- Aidan Bissett

Listerine- Dayglow

Scrawny- Wallows

Thrift Shop- Macklemore

[woogyu]

Funny Drabble Game

Drabble Prompts; fluff | angst | funny (when requesting PLEASE add which prompt list it is from)

Can have up to 3 prompts per request + can send multiple requests.

They will all be written for fem reader. I’m very sorry about this, it is just because of what I know/have experience in writing.

Please format requests as follows; funny member prompt # or #s.

ex. funny member #12 + #15

ex. funny florist!member x student!reader #14

Send your requests/asks: here

~ prompts under the cut ~

crossed out = don’t request, usually for when I’ve gotten tired of a specific prompt coming up too often or I don’t like it

Drabble Prompts [credit; https://justforshitsandcackles.tumblr.com ]

“You’re such a fun drunk.”

“Since my dog likes you then i guess i like you.”

“Tell them to fuck off.”

“It’s six o’clock in the morning, you’re not having vodka.”

“I want to strangle you 99% of the time.”

“Could you not suck for five minutes?”

“The ladies love a guy who’s good with kids.”

“You can’t banish me! This is my bed/bedroom too!”

“You’re seriously like a man-child.”

“Well thats tragic.”

“I’m too sober for this.”

“You are actually insane!”

“I think you’re actually satan.”

“It’s like -50 degrees in here.”

“Laugh at my jokes! They’re funny and you know it!”

“Sorry isn’t going to help when i kick your ass!”

“Don’t let one of them electrocute themselves or something.”

“Welcome back. Now fucking help me.”

“Do you find this amusing, fuck face?”

“Holy shit! That thing is huge!”

“Don’t kink shame me.”

“I hope i’m never stuck with you on a deserted island.”

“I just cleaned that!”

“Don’t get sassy with me!”

“What do you have behind your back?”

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.”

“Not to toot my own horn or anything, but the dog loves me more.”

“I’m going to put on some clothes before you say anything else.”

“Bite me.” “If you insist.”

“Im not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention.”

“I need you to be my fake girlfriend/boyfriend.”

“Can you stop playing connect the dots with my freckles?”

“You snuck into my room, at 4am..to cuddle?”

“If we get caught i’m blaming you.”

“What? No! I wasn’t staring..i-i was looking at something behind you!”

“I locked the keys in the car.”

“This is why we can’t have nice things.”

“Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”

“Define normal.”

“Do i get bonus points if i act like i care?”

“Just remember if we get caught, you’re deaf and i don’t speak english.”

“Don’t look for any redeeming qualities. I don’t have any.”

“And you wonder why you’re single.”

“Remind me to kill you. Please.”

“I’m listening to you. I’m just not paying attention.”

“She’s crazy. and just when you think you’ve reached the bottom of her craziness, theres a crazy underground garage.”

“Sorry. I don’t speak skank.”

“My middle finger salutes you.”

“I don’t think i could ever stab someone. I mean, lets be honest, i can barely get the straw in the capri sun.”

“I don’t have enough middle fingers to let you know how i feel.”

“Somebodys cranky.” “Somebody needs to shut up.”

“All due respect but thats a bunch of crap.”

“I am one of the few people in the world who can murder you and leave no forensic evidence behind.”

“Excuse me. I have to go make a scene.”

“What did i tell you about calling him/her the devil?” “That it’s offensive to the devil?”

“I heard that!” “You were supposed to!”

“I’m not weird. I’m limited edition.”

“If history repeats itself, i am so getting a dinosaur.”

“You seem somewhat familiar. have i threatened you before?”

“Even when we were kids, i always kicked your ass!”

“Sarcasm is the body’s natural reaction to stupidity.”

“Don’t look in her eyes, she might steal your soul.”

“She’s hot, but she’s evil.”

“Do i regret it? Yes. Would i do it again? Probably.”

“You’re going to burn in a very special level in hell. A level they reserve for child molesters, animal abusers, and people who talk at the theater.”

“I’m not a damsel in distress. i’m a damsel doing damage.”

“Sometimes i question my sanity. Occasionally it replies.”

“Why should we date?” “Because we’re attracted to each other.” “I am attracted to pie, but i do not feel the need to date pie.”

“Why does everyone assume the worst of me.” “It saves time.”

“You’ve successfully cured him/her of anything interesting about his/her personality.”

“Neither one of us is drunk enough for this conversation.”

“Wow somebody needs a happy meal.”

“I didn’t do it!” “Then why are you laughing?” “Because whoever did it is a freaking genius.”

“Idiots. I’m surrounded by idiots.”

“You couldn’t handle me even if i came with instructions.”

“Obviously you have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit.”

“I’m so glad you could come.” “Cut the crap. give me a drink.”

“Where have you been all my life?” “Hiding from you.”

“I can tell that you think what you’re saying is funny, but…no.”

“If you pull out my earphones, i will pull out your lungs.”

“Ah, he’s playing hard-to-get. thats cute.”

“I feel like a freakin’ soccer mom.”

“My ex? Yeah id still hit that. Except this time it would be with a car or a baseball bat.”

“Such big evil in such a little thing.”

“For the love of fuck.” “Yep, thats me. i love to fuck.”

“Are you ready to go?” “Yeah. let me grab my machete.” “We’re going to sephora. no machetes needed.”

Clears throat seriously, “Yas bitch.”

“No road trip is complete without the snacks. So go in there and buy everything you can fit in a tiny cart.”

“I’m all for making you miserable by being insufferable, but unfortunately i have things to do today.”

“Come on, you can help me make conspiracy theories. If you make an especially good one, ill pay for dinner.”

“You know what? Why not? I haven’t ruined my life yet this week. Lets go.”

“Do these dark circles under my eyes say nothing to you about how i am doing?”

“If i didn’t know you better, id say you were trying to flirt by giving me books.”

“What are you talking about? Im hilarious!”

“Duct tape? Duct tape is not going to fix this!”

“What did you think? That you were going to fight him?”

“You’re blocking the view.” “I am the view.”

“Why are you on the floor?” “Tying my shoe.” “You’re wearing rain-boots.”

“Cant stop me from slaying!”

“Close your eyes and imagine it, all the dogs in the world.”

“Be careful, he’s so sweet you might get diabetes.”

“Would you reconsider if i was sober?”

“Stop running i’m wearing flip flops!”

“Why are you holding your boobs?”

“I wouldn’t call it stalking, more like far distance admiring.”

“You need to stop making her laugh! you’re ruining her makeup!”

“I’m sure i can get some kind of sexual gratification from just staring at him if i try hard enough.”

“I’m not sure if its a sexual thing or not.”

“I’m either in the mood for french fries or to rip someone’s head off. Hmmm. decisions, decisions.”

“If you’re not out of the shower in the next five minutes, i’m going to cut your fucking hair off to make your life quicker.”

“No, i will not dress up as a chicken.”

“I never told my extended family that we broke up, and now they want to know when you’re coming over for dinner again.”

“I need a date to my relatives wedding, and i’ve already asked literally everyone else i know, so i know you probably hate me, but please say yes. Otherwise they’ll try to set me up with someone, and they have awful taste.”

“One more sound and i swear to-”

“Sometimes when (name) texts me, i just pretend they didn’t so i don’t have to respond.”

“You gave our pigeon boyfriend the wrong beans!”

“If i’m like 50 and still single, ill marry you because tax benefits.”

“Please, never have children.”

“I know its like 11pm, but i’m on my way to your house with nacho fries.”

“Sometimes i wish i was gay so i wouldn’t have to deal with all these dumbass boys.

“You know, would’ve been nice if you told me your whole ass family was coming to this dinner! I look like a troll.”

“Im going to the party to pet the dog, no thanks drugs.”

“I hope in college i get some excuse to deck him. Maybe with a bottle or something, ill wing it and be like “oops, sorry shithead, my hand slipped.”

“What is this shit…i’m just trying to graduate.”

“Ooo, i sense attitude in your tone.”

“Guess who only got two hours of sleep? Me, lol, i’m gonna die.“

“I’m gonna strangle you.” “Is that a threat or a promise?”

“Superheroes aren’t allowed in my house, especially after they’ve destroyed my living room. go away.”

“oh you’re coming. even if i have to drag you through the snow in your pajamas.”

“i swear you’re gonna end up getting like botox in your tits or something.” “well i mean-” “whAT DO YOU MEAN?!”

[sunshinejins]

sweet red wine

what began as a funny story i told @caffeine-catastrophe turned into this little fic! also posted on ao3 under the username “joylight” if any of you would like to check it out there :)

pairing: julie molina x luke patterson

fandom: julie and the phantoms

rating: teen, i do mention drinking but all the characters are of age :)

warnings: alcohol, this literally takes place in a liquor store lmao

When Luke told his parents that he got a job directly out of high school, they had been proud of him for about three seconds until he mentioned that it was at a liquor store. His new employment had sparked an hour long conversation of “don’t you want to be working somewhere a little nicer?” and “is this just a stepping stone for that band of yours?” and “get a better job or we will physically force you into one.” Luke had retaliated with all the spite in his body and had promptly moved out the second Alex and Reggie had managed to secure a lease on an apartment. He might have regretted it, had the job at the liquor store not been the best gig he’d ever lined up.

The hours were great, mostly daytime shifts when no one was there, leaving his nights wide open to pilot Sunset Curve to greatness. The manager, a woman in her late-twenties named Lessa, had even managed to secure jobs for both Alex and Reggie within three days of Luke working there. They got discounts on everything, even though Luke mostly used his to fuel his Diet Coke addiction, and for the most part they got to interact with some pretty interesting people.

So yeah, Luke already liked his job a lot, and his parents had even timidly offered apologies after he had come to a monthly dinner bragging that he had been promoted to daytime supervisor. And then, he met her.

Luke’s in the middle of a pretty decent Among Us run on a random Wednesday in February when the bell over the door to Liquor By Us jingles. He lifts his head briefly, just to check that it’s not some fifteen year old punk trying to smuggle out a crate of Twisted Teas, and his jaw drops all the way to the floor. The girl who’s just unzipped her jacket and sent him a warm look may possibly be the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. She’s got a halo of dark curls which he’d kill to run his fingers through, a smile which would put Reggie’s “flirting” grin to shame, and eyes that he swears are filled with glitter and stars.

Or something. He needs time to work on his metaphors.

“Hey! Welcome!” He calls and she responds with an enthusiastic wave.

“Hi!”

“Anything I can help you with?” He shoves his phone to the side, watching only slightly mournfully as he gets killed by Dark Green. The girl steps slightly closer and he clocks the Thornton t-shirt she’s wearing and now he’s pretty sure his heart has beat out of his chest. She likes music. She likes music!!

“What’s your sweetest and cheapest red wine?” Luke pauses for a second and thinks. He knows he’s probably supposed to steer her towards the 30$ bottles of wine and lie and say they’re the best for the cheapest, but there’s something about this girl that makes him want to be truthful. And maybe run a comb through his hair. And maybe compose a guitar solo?

“Sweetest and cheapest? Huh, let’s see,” he crosses over the counter to the wall of red wine they have and the girl trails behind him. He doesn’t know much about red wine if he’s being honest, Alex is their resident wine fanatic and he focuses more on the spirits and mixers, but he’s determined to not mess this up. “Port is the sweetest wine you can get, but I’m not sure how cheap it is. We have a couple of inexpensive sweet red blends by Barefoot too,” he gestures to a rack of 8$ wines near the bottom. The girl tugs her lip between her teeth and Luke literally has to place one of his hands on an empty shelf to support himself.

“What’s a port?”

“Uhhhhhhhh,” Luke’s about to BS his way the hell out of this, when Alex rounds the corner with a handful of flyers and saves his life.

“Port is a Portuguese dessert wine that is generally served after supper. Why are you looking for port?” The girl turns to him and Luke violently gestures behind her in an attempt to alert Alex to his intense developing crush on the girl in front of him. If Alex notices, he doesn’t show it.

“I’m making sangria cupcakes for my best friend’s 21st tomorrow, and the recipe calls for red wine, so I assumed a sweet red wine would work best in baking?” Luke can vaguely hear Reggie calling for him from the walk in, and he wants so desperately to ignore him until Alex cuts him a very obvious look and Luke sadly stalks away.

Reggie is trying to load an entire armful of White Claws onto a shelf and Luke quickly snags a few before they fall. Reggie looks up and clocks what Luke can only assume is a mournful look on his face.

“Who died?”

“The cutest girl in all of existence who also goes to Thornton who also has a smile like an angel is currently searching for sweet red wine out there with Alex, and I’m regretting ignoring the training pamphlet about the wines of the world.” Reggie’s eyes widen.

“Did you get her name?”

“No!” Luke tosses his hands up in the air in exasperation, “But I know she’s making cupcakes for her friend!” Reggie tucks a few more White Claws onto the shelf and shrugs.

“Just ask her why she needs the wine. And beat Alex to checking her out.” Luke’s pretty sure his legs react to Reggie’s advice before his mind does, because he ends up back at the till without really realizing it and somehow the girl is there already holding three bottles of wine.

“I can help you!” His voice sounds high and tinny in his own ears and Luke cringes a bit even though the girl is still smiling at him. His brain may be mush. She passes him the three bottles of wine and he clocks two bottle of strawberry wine and one cheaper merlot.

“You went for merlot, huh?”

“Yeah, the other guy suggested it.”

“Well if Alex suggested it, it’s probably right,” Luke nods, mostly to himself. The girl nods along with him, and he tries to focus on doing his job instead of flirting for once today. He manages to scan all the bottles of wine, look at her ID (her name is Julie!) and pack her bottles with no issue, but then suddenly the two of them are standing across the counter from each other with the wine bottles between them and neither of them were moving.

What did Reggie say to ask again?

“So, can you explain to me how the wine is gonna go in cupcakes?”

Right, that. Good job, brain!

Julie smiles brightly, as if she was waiting for an excuse to talk about it, and leans against the counter.

“Apparently I need to make a red wine syrup and add it to the buttercream to make red wine buttercream! And then the cupcakes are full of fruit. So, sangria cupcake.” Luke definitely hears everything she says, but his mind is so full of the sight of the little gap between Julie’s front teeth and the swirls of hair falling to her dark skin, that his brain kind of shuts down.

“That sounds killer, I wish I could try some of those!”

He did not mean to say that.

Julie looks a bit shocked for a second, but she recovers and leans against the counter again.

“Well, we’ll probably have leftovers. It’s a pretty big recipe. I can do a cupcake delivery.”

Wait. What?

“Oh, so like, should I give you my number or something? Like, just to make sure that the cupcakes don’t go to waste?”

Very chill, Lucas.

“Yeah that works!” Julie’s smile probably mirrors his in brightness and intensity, and she hands him her phone without hesitation, “My name’s Julie, by the way.”

HOW DID THAT WORK.

“I’m Luke,” he answers excitedly as he types in his number to her phone, “Nice to meet ya!”

“Nice to meet you too,” Julie looks even cuter now that she knows his name and Luke can barely contain the bouncing in his step as he hands her the phone back. She finally snags the bag of wine and Luke distantly remembers saying goodbye, but he’s too revved up on the feeling of getting her number. Alex and Reggie materialize into his field of vision.

“You’re right, she was super cute, bro,” Reggie claps his hands in excitement. Alex is giving him a very dry, yet still loving look.

“She couldn’t stop looking at your biceps.”

“Who can?” Luke punches the air and finally feels the wriggling excitement crawl through his body. His phone buzzes and he’s quick to scoop it up, ignoring the chuckles of his friends.

from: unknown number

hey, it’s julie! when are you free for a cupcake delivery in the next week? maybe we can get coffee first?

Yeah. Luke loves his job.

—-

the sangria cupcakes themselves, made for my real life best friend’s real 21st birthday :)

[dongjus-sparkle]

SVSSS Read through 📖

Chap 5 - Chap 15

SPOILERS OBVIOUSLY

Let's go!

■Chapter 5■

• Mission time!!

• "don’t you know you’re exactly like that mission-giving NPC?" 🤣

• Nice. Shen Qingqiu complained earlier about cultivators using horses and carriages when he was reviewing the book. It is a bit weird, but 🤷🏻‍♀️

• "Ming Fan was truly well-versed in being a piece of cannon fodder." His entire character so far.

• The Skinner. Sounds like an exciting arc is starting.

• Ohhhhhh loopholes in the system's OOC function. He's coming up with every workaround to be nice to Luo Binghe and everyone is SHOCKED.

• AND we already have Luo Binghe being like 'he's good to look at' 🤣

• -5 points for smILING?! Rude.

■Chapter 6■

• "He didn’t like looking at an old man in his sixties and a teenage girl fondling each other in front of him at all!" Good I'm not the only one.

• Of course Ning Yingying went missing. So far she just accidentally starts trouble over and over again.

• "Fuck, if there’s an Easy Mode why didn’t you say so earlier! Activate activate activate!" Honestly a mood.

• Get's knocked out just to be taunted by the system OOC: -50 Points.

•WHY IS HE NAKED.

■Chapter 7■

• Oh good not totally naked.

• Immediately guesses correctly who The Skinner is and then just waits for the classic boss narrative. I love Shen Qingqiu 😚

• Ohhh. The butterfly demon is clever! Using Shen Qingqiu as their next skin so that they can use the Xiu Ya Sword to make themselves stronger 👏 but then they just gave away the entire plan.

• Luo Binghe sees Shen Qingqiu half naked, vulnerable, and tied up 👀

• Please tell me there's a reason you're directing the Butterfly toward Luo Binghe with your weird roundabout complements~~

■Chapter 8■

• Exploits the systems rule that only Luo Binghe can't die, but then complains about what a cop out it will be for the reader 😅

• "...Just praised you and you said something stupid again. Please don’t talk about how to release your enemy"

• I forgot that he set the mission to easy mode!

• "Even if something does happen, nothing will happen to you.” hi. They're being cute again.

•Earning a whole bunch of points and disabling OOC function. Shen Qingqiu having free control, I sense chaos in the wind~

• He gave Luo Binghe the right cultivation methods. The best master. 💗

■Chap 9■

• Enters the spirit cave to find a way to cultivate, immediately had to deal with someone's Qi deviation.

• 'Congratulations! The system’s notice: Changed the scene ‘Liu Qingge’s death,’ the death and hatred values for the villain ‘Shen Qingqiu’ have decreased' OHHHHH he can change whole scenes and his character!

• Each of the peaks is know for their own thing thats cool. There is an Ascetic peak? And a Lovley Ladies peak 🤣🤣

• I love Shen Qingqiu being devastated by Liu Qingge not being a big tough guy.

• Every single person when Shen Qingqiu is being genuinely nice: 😱🧐

■Chapter 10■

• Shen Qingqiu sees Luo Binghe: oh good he's here! When he sees the leader of the demon invasion: "Don't your feet hurt?"

• I think I need to see some art of the Demon Saint Sha Hualing. Her description is mint. 💃🏻

• Here we go again with the making your character be less like scum. HUM. I wonder if that will change the plot...

■Chapter 11■

•Shen Qingqiu out here getting all fancy fighting the one armed demon with just his fan. God that's style.

• Luo Binghe being like 👀🤩💘

•OH NO NOT HIS COOL LEVEL 🤣

• She is so beautiful that she has to wear a veil all the time. Damn. Thats powerful.

•Shen Qingqiu then just fawns over both the future wives of Luo Binghe being in his presence. "The beauty of an Evil demon girl’s wild and unrestrained behavior can make him drunk; the Righteous saint girl wavering between abstinence and desire letting people’s hearts itch." Dramatic ass

■Chapter 12■

• Everyone thinks he's crazy for calling Binghe forward to fight. And they basically beg him to forfit so he doesn't die... but didn't we say earlier that the protagonist can't die.

• Binghe really takes it to heart every time Qingqiu says he believes he'll make it through.

• He's mad that Binghe didn't win even more cool points 😆

• The demon is so mad he lost and was shamed that he decides it would be a good idea to slight up attack Luo Binghe again. Demon logic.

• "These righteous and awe-inspiring words didn’t just make the demons speechless; in his heart, even Shen Qingqiu’s own old face turned dark red." And I'm sure broke Binghe's brain a little bit.

• Binghe literally: 🤩🤩😍 He saved me again, and be believes in me 💘

• AGAIN?

■Chapter 13■

•He can't stop himself from jumping in front of Luo Binghe again and again.......

• "In his mind and heart there was a string of scrolling fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck brushed all over the screen." Honestly I'd think the same id I was poisoned.

• Luo Binghe is PISSED.

• "Shizun, this disciple is willing to receive the attack in your stead.” 😵 "Since you know this injury is because of you, you should properly protect your own life!” ☠💀☠💀

• Liu Qingge is like, oh, you wanted to run away after attacking us unprompted. No.

• Improves his own role, then sees Binghe crying for him, immediately regrets his decision, passes out.

■Chapter 14■

•Luo Binghe watching his Shizun from as far away as possible is sad.

• Shen Qingqiu is just now seeing how much he's changed the story. And how the future events scare him. Whooo.

• "Luo Binghe immediately ran to the kitchen. The congee that he remade every hour these days finally came of use." 🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯🤯 Oh no. He's like fully committed.

• The flirting is RIDICULOUS. "Why don't I make you something new everyday" 😫

• Shen Qingqiu realizes that's his best pickup line in the original story, but being all, what a guy, why not!

• Him trying to get away with not pushing Luo Binghe into the Abyss.

•You're telling me that in the original book that having set with a half demon half great cultivator is the cure. And that that helps him level up?

■Chapter 15■

• Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu being brothers is cute. But even he thought that Qingqiu might be possessed

• Ming Fan is so mad hearing positive words about Luo Binghe from Shen Qingqiu that he throws a fit. Abd Binghe just accepts it. Hes the best boy.

•The name Dream Realm........ I wonder where this could possibly go!